


Postulancy

by persephine



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Catholicism, Chess, Confessional, Convent, Crime Scenes, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, Mentions of Suicide, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Nuns, Religion Kink, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sexual Tension, Sister!Makoto, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Virginity or Celibacy Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-27 18:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 81,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13254444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephine/pseuds/persephine
Summary: There is no aphrodisiac like innocence.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Old readers, welcome back. New readers, brace yourselves. If you prefer something _slightly_ more palatable, I suggest reading _Pining_ instead. 
> 
> Ideally the summary for this story would be: Detective Akechi is assigned a case he's certain is a suicide. Sister Makoto is sure it's murder. If he is so certain it is a suicide, why does he keep coming back? 
> 
> This is a darker work that delves into Makoto's personality and how she ends up becoming a nun, a fair warning without giving away the full details of the story. If religion and/or murder mysteries aren't your thing, I suggest not reading it because it can get pretty taboo up in here. I'm also hovering on whether or not non-con will happen in this, so I've checked it off just to be safe for now. I'll post a warning if or when it happens in the story.
> 
> Also, I've never been a religious person in my entire life, and when I was it was not with Catholicism. I will most likely get things wrong and I apologize in advance for that. 
> 
> Otherwise, critique and commentary is always welcomed. Enjoy your stay.

The way her heels clicked were like music to his ears. It wasn’t because Akechi Goro partially enjoyed the sound, but because he knew there was something more to Nijima Makoto than the religious habit she adorned, or the cross she clutched so tightly between her fingers that her knuckles turned white, or the way she smiled at him so secretively that there’s bound to be  _ something more _ to her than what he can deduce from appearances alone. He was good at reading people, but not her. 

 

Her entire being was enclothed, save for her face which donned a pair of bright red eyes, a tall nose, and small mouth curled slightly upwards at all times. Out of all the nuns, she was the only one with her dark walnut-colored hair peeking out of her veil. He took it as a challenge, one that urged him to break her postulancy and possess her for himself. Akechi memorized these features, for they were the only ones visible to him, but he craved to know what lay underneath those garbs. And the sound her heels made? It was more than enough for him to know that she wasn’t made to play by the rules, and perhaps, she yearned to escape as much as he yearned for her.

 

A crime occurred a fortnight ago behind the building of the convent on a fateful Sunday afternoon. All members of attendance were to be questioned thoroughly, a proper ushering of all the nuns residing there would be in order while the crime was under investigation. Many of these women didn’t have homes, save for those with families that hadn’t already shunned them out. The entire thing had been a disaster, really, but the law obeyed secularity. Akechi sighed when he received the report, reminiscing the scent of ‘wine’ and cheaply lit candles over a crushed velvet tablecloth back when he had  _ dabbled _ in faith. But most of all, he remembered the cross-hatched patterns the shadows of the confessional made on his hand if he held it out, and the voice from the other side pardoning unimportant sins that covered underlying, dark ones he told to no one. It’ll be an interesting visit, to say the least. 

 

His eyes darted back and forth along the lines on crisp white stack of papers, warm from the touch of the photocopier, and after mere seconds, he dropped it back down onto his desk. Easy. Solvable in less than a day’s time, and yet the station was ordering a full on investigation? Hardly what he considered a good use of government money, but he did it for the hefty paycheck and what little religion had taught him in the beauty of justice. He slid on his gloves perfectly like he’d practiced a million times, shuffled the papers neatly into his attache case and headed for the crime scene. 

 

\------

 

Yellow tape lined the outside perimeter of the church, a sight Akechi recognized all too well. And one he’d grown too accustomed to. He grew pale when he looked over the scene, the quiet chatter of his colleagues behind him, dusting away for evidence or taking pictures. 

 

_ What the hell? _

 

“You’re kidding me,” he said aloud accidentally.

 

“Not kidding.”

 

“You called me over for  _ this _ ?” he said indignantly, “There’s nothing to see.”

 

“Look,” his superior sighed, “This church-”

 

“Convent.”

 

His superior paused, giving him a look.

 

“Doesn’t something feel off about it to you?”

 

“All places of religion do,” Akechi said plainly, “What do you want me to say?”

 

“Who picks a place like  _ that _ to commit suicide?” he pressed on.

 

Akechi leaned down, already replacing his usual gloves with latex ones as he examined the side of the well. The stone was old, decaying and growing with moss and blood littered only the insides of the well which meant either a preemptive homicide or, unfortunately, a suicide. He had yet to receive the autopsy and he wasn’t one to make a ruling based only on his pride. 

 

“People that don’t want to be found,” he said, tugging off the latex from his hands and tossing them into the makeshift trash off to the side, “I think we have what we need, don’t you?”

 

The man in front of him swallowed, “We’re retrieving the body now. Luckily the nuns use the well daily so they were able to find it a little after the second phase. Guys in autopsy will be happy about that.”

 

“Nuns?” Akechi asked curiously.

 

“Yeah... about that.”


	2. Chapter 2

The day couldn’t get worse, and Akechi knew that for a fact when his superior demanded that he keep the sisters inside the church on the grounds. The older women weren’t shaken up as much, seasoned to the likes of death as is, though he couldn’t say the same for the younger nuns. Their faces were pale, whispering prayers slightly too loudly as the rosary in their hands trembled, making a jingling sound that hurt Akechi’s ears. He wasn’t fit for this job - comforting women, comforting anyone, really. He opened his mouth to say something, and one of them burst into tears. He decided against going the irrational route.

“I’m sorry, you must all feel extremely… distraught after losing a sister like that,” he began awkwardly, “Still, I ask-”

A loud bellowing of cries pinched his eardrums.

“Just… on behalf of the police, we ask that you stay in your rooms until the scene is ready for breakdown,” he finished with a sigh.

Another sister blew her nose loudly, the sound echoing through the church.

“Right. W-well, in the event that you have any questions or concerns, I ask that you direct that to-”

“Sir.”

“Ah, yes-”

Akechi’s gaze met that of a woman beholding red eyes. He’d seen nothing like it, and her stare was pensive, as if he could read every emotion in his soul -if a God were to exist. Still, he stared back just as intensely, neither one speaking to one another. Her face was fair, skin without a blemish, and the bags under her eyes nonexistent. She appeared to be taking the news well. And for some reason, she was the first nun he’d ever seen allowed to wear her hair out like that, choppy auburn bangs that framed her face and sat above her brow. She was hardly someone that drew attention for her appearance, but surely she’d make strangers do a double take often enough. He found her fascinating, the way she spoke without a tremor in her voice and the way she parted her rosy lips ever so slightly as she stared on with those devilish eyes.

“Is there a chance,” she started to say, voice silky as it echoed through the high ceilings and sent a ripple up his spine as if she played with his bones herself, “that this was a murder?”

He looked at her, face unchanging as she asked calmly, eliciting the quiet gasps of a few of her sisters who made the Catholic gesture before muttering a silent prayer. Akechi shifted, looking the woman straight on. She had a slim nose, and the way the afternoon sun shined through the glass windows made him note how high her cheekbones were.

“There’s not a chance, Sister…-”

“Makoto.”

He liked the way her name rolled off her tongue as if she never gotten a chance to say it to others very often.

“Sister Makoto,” he said slowly, “She committed suicide.”

The news was enough to make Makoto break out her own rosary and gesture, her petite mouth whispering words of God as she spoke a prayer for her sister. Akechi found her mesmerizing. A girl so young had taken the habit. She couldn’t have been much older than 20, if anything, she was his age. In a way, he pitied her. What little scope of the world she had seen allowed her to make a decision to throw her life away for some book written by Man. He found himself thinking these thoughts loudly with the way she knitted her brows at him angrily. He mirrored her expression, confused.

“May I have your name?” Makoto asked plainly.

“Excuse me?” he asked just as plainly.

“I asked for your name. I gave you mine,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Right. It’s Akechi. Detective Akechi Goro. Sorry, you caught me off guard-”

“Akechi, she was murdered.”

A few of the nuns turned away from their prayers to look at Makoto. She stood now, high and mighty, facing the detective with her rosary twisted around her palm. Akechi’s mouth felt dry and his face flushed at the way she spoke his name without the usual title to accompany it.

“She wasn’t, Makoto,” he bit back, “I ask that you leave this to those seasoned to scenes like this rather than jump to conclusions.”

His tone was harsh. Rough. Makoto fell back ever so slightly, staring up at him meekly.

“Please,” Akechi added quickly and quietly.

“My apologies,” Makoto disagreed, “but suicide is a rather significant offense in our religion. There’s no way our devout sister would do such a thing.”

Akechi rolled his eyes inwardly, losing patience. A part of him was immensely refreshed by the banter, and another part of him felt a sort of attraction to the way she spoke with no filter and little regard to his status. It was impressive, shocking, but still disrespectful. He wouldn’t stand for that.

“Would you like a look at the crime scene yourself? Is that what you’re insinuating?” Akechi challenged.

Makoto blinked, hands clasped around her rosary tightening, and she flushed.

“Afraid, Sister?” he provoked quietly some more.

The room suddenly felt like a warzone, the quiet hush of the nuns made it even more apparent that they were bickering and causing an unwarranted scene. But for the two of them, it was like a silent faceoff. A contest of constant one-upping, and Akechi knew he’d win.

“Not at all, Detective,” she sneered.

Only now was Akechi aware he had inched his way towards her so that he could see now how deep the red of her eyes really were. Her lashes were long, and she had no right in being as attractive as she was. She was married to her nonexistent God, betrothed to some being in the sky that she’d believe for the entirety of her life will take her soul away from this world. She’d meet the same grim end as the nonbelievers and be none the wiser. Her pretty lips parted again, his gaze making her shy now. What a shame, he thought to himself, the good girl type of pushover.

He so sorely wished to be proven otherwise.

“Be my guest,” he purred, sliding past her towards the door.

Makoto patted the hand held steadfast on her arm, giving her fellow sister a small, weak smile, before they released her. She murmured words of reassurance and followed behind the detective. The clack of her low heels echoed off into the distance. He was tall, even with the extra edge she had. His shaggy light brown hair barely kissed his shoulders, a strange cut for a detective to sport, but what really made her curious was the fact that he wore his gloves no matter where he went. He wasn’t near the crime scene when he came into the church, but made no attempt to remove them. Makoto could tell a lot based on a person’s hands, and she didn’t have the liberty to do so this time. It made him even more of an enigma, but it was only a small thought she pushed away.

She disliked him very much so already solely based on the way he spoke to her so harshly. The way he almost taunted her, pushing her to the edge as if he were better than her -though she knew it to be uncontested. Her sister had been no different. Makoto knew she wasn’t useless. She would be anything but in the eyes of God. She’d make certain of that during her postulancy, and after a few short months she’d devote all her affections and life to Him for the rest of her life. Then she’d truly be useless - just like how everyone wanted her to be.

\------

The air smelled of winter, and the thought of finding a body in the cold made Makoto’s stomach churn a little. She pushed the thought of it out as best she could, thinking only sorrowful thoughts for her fellow sister who had supposedly taken her life via something so horrid, and she died alone.

How wretched, she thought to herself, may she be at peace with Him at last.

“... Your men are basically done,” Makoto pointed out, “I don’t know what you’re asking me to see when you’ve taken what’s crucial.”

“Autopsy will be done in a few days, I’m expecting. The body’s been taken and we’re still in the process of dusting for prints around the area. So long as you don’t touch anything, I’m sure you can find something that points to a homicide that our specialists must have missed,” Akechi pressed.

Makoto exhaled, her breath floating in the air before disappearing just as quick as it came. Blood tampered with the air she breathed, and soon she felt herself holding the want to throw up. She regained her composure lest the young detective thing less of her. She didn’t particularly have anything to add, though she could feel him beaming at that fact, and her competitive nature got the best of her.

“Motive,” she said.

He didn’t ask for what she meant, he knew all too well. He smirked at her, impressed. Still, he waited for her explanation patiently, eyeing the way her long fingers toyed with the chain around her palm and wrist. Her slim frame really made him underestimate her, but surely there was some undeniable strength underneath that he was curious to witness. She stood tall, still many inches below him, but she had the confidence of a person on the side of justice.

“Your people must really value that logic, I don’t doubt. What was the motive of killing someone so innocent?” she asked, muttering the last part incredulously and disgusted.

“You allow your feelings to get the best of you, Sister. No one is truly innocent.”

“Innocent until proven guilty, I presume?”

“Not in this country,” he said, his smirk growing wider.

He watched her brows knit forward. It wasn’t a good look for her, though he could hardly deny the way he felt himself drawn to her. If he were to guess, she could’ve been the same year as him. He liked a stubborn woman, and even more so, one that rejected anything he’d have to say. It made things interesting.

“I believe your view of the law is very different from my understanding, Detective Akechi,” she punctuated, “my understanding being what I know to be fact.

They stared at each other with long silences after both of their jabs. They stood outside in the brisk cold, but the air was so thick they could’ve cut it with the knife that killed their dear victim.

“If you believe my words to be false, then accompany me to the precinct. I’ll allow you permission to analyze the autopsy for yourself if you’re so bold,” he sneered.

Something surprising happened then. A gust of wind blew into their presence. Makoto and Akechi stood seemingly far apart but the rift of their differences seemed to connect them more than they realized.

“May God help you because I will be there,” she challenged.

He watched her closely when she accidentally attempted to run her hand through her habit. She was new to this for certain, and it was her mistake for allowing her guard to fall. Her red eyes blinked in embarrassment, and she averted her gaze quickly before turning on her heel and walking away from him. The echo of her shoes followed behind her in a staccato-like rhythm.

She held the facade of a religious woman so well, but Akechi saw through the deceit very well now. He couldn’t help but feel intrigued in the way she bantered with him so willingly. He admitted to pushing her buttons where he saw fit, but she played right into his hand. He had no ill intentions of disproving her, he placated his curiousness in her seemingly unbreakable logic. He breathed out, a cloud forming from his breath.

It really was a cold day, and he yearned for the warmth he felt inside the church once more, though he knew he wouldn’t be welcome. He would retire for the day, and hold Makoto to her words. She would be there, she guaranteed after all.

Akechi felt something stir in his loins, and it wasn’t a particularly pleasant feeling. He chalked it up to the pungent smell of blood mixed with the tension between him and the young nun. He covered his lower face with his gloved hand and made for the gate. No matter how many crime scenes, nor the amount of blood present at each of them would ever allow him to truly get used to it, he concluded.

Though at night, he slept soundly no matter how horrid something came to his witness. That night, he couldn’t fall asleep for whatever reasons. His mind constantly drifting back to the nun. His interest wasn’t satiated, and the unresolved crime in the air didn’t particularly help it. He imagined her without the habit, without the clothes of a nun. It’d be hard to find someone like her, and yet here she was- denying each and every one of his words. Akechi finally drifted to a slumber as he dreamt about pitch blackness.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Makoto realized she had left the window open and woke up shivering. The analog clock on the wall was barely readable, but since it was visible, she knew the sun was rising. The small hand signifies that it was 6 at the very least. She had a very good work ethic, yet the drag of getting up in the morning left her affected as well. Her eyes shifted to the cross next to the clock, and she hesitated. Then she crawled out of bed, the cold air enveloping her warm body immediately. Her duties had doubled now that the only sister that was also under postulancy had gone to heaven. The thought of her being next entered her mind and left as quick as it came. 

 

Makoto got ready for the day by quickly shoving all of her hair into her habit, and pulling the long robe up her body before buttoning it closed at the neck. She felt filthy and her hair due for a shower, but she wouldn’t have access to a shower until that night. She closed her eyes and felt her skin crawling when she thought about the next 16 hours at least would be dedicated to church work before she’d be rewarded with cleanliness. Kneeling before the cross, and tucking her hands together towards her chest to pray, Makoto whispered a quiet prayer for her late sister. She found it hard to focus, what with how cold it was, and how she’d love to have crawled back into bed for another few hours before sun properly rose, but she found little luxury here. 

 

She signified the end of her prayer before standing up. Inside the church, she could see her own breath even with all windows and doors closed. The other sisters said their prayers from their rooms since they had been decorated properly for them to do so, and Makoto had to make the trek from the furthest wing into the church to mutter her own due to her postulant status. She felt lonely, for the company she had prior to this she’d taken for granted. She hadn’t properly learned her name, but she felt at ease knowing she could call anyone ‘Sister’ here and it would’ve been fine. This girl had taken the time to learn Makoto’s name, adding it as a suffix every time she called out to her. No matter how early the day was, she was always cheerful and chirpy - something Makoto both admired and envied. 

 

Deep down, she felt the tug of her life before this. Living with Sae wasn’t particularly the greatest, but she renounced her life after some terrifying words she’d mutter unremorsefully and that was that. Makoto ran her fingers over the trigger that night, a pistol she’d kept hidden in a box under her bed for safekeeping after her father died. She trusted no one after that. It was foolish, and selfish - but it’d make Sae regret it. Alas, she was not stupid enough to do it, too afraid perhaps. She was too attached to the terrible life she lived. She packed the pistol along with a few belongings, and no proper change of clothes. She wouldn’t be needing it where she was going. And Sae didn’t stop her.

 

The sound of birds brought Makoto back to reality and she yawned. 

 

\------

 

Akechi was awake promptly at 6 without the aid of an alarm. For the last two years, he’d woken up like clockwork and setting an alarm only to diffuse it was proving to be more of a hassle than anything else. He was wide awake even having stayed up until midnight the nights beforehand, and he eased his way into getting ready for his morning bike ride. He had established these habits well into high school, and he saw no reason for them to change now, though he welcomed distractions often enough that biking became more of a hobby than an exercise. 

 

He rode through the quiet streets of his neighborhood, dressed in gear that no one would recognize him in. With his hair tied up, he felt the wind billowing at his ears and the tip of his nose had grown cold as he slid down the curves of the pathways. It really was a chilly morning, and he would’ve preferred nothing else - he found that it woke him up more than a cold shower. When he logged an hour into his watch, he rounded a corner to head back to his apartment. 

 

He frowned ever so slightly when he entered the lobby of his building, he had barely broken a sweat, and thus, undeserving of a shower. The cold had ensured that. He dropped the v-neck he wore unceremoniously in the pile of dirty clothes and dressed himself for work.

 

His mind wandered down his itinerary for work that day, logging it in his brain like he always had. He tucked his phone into the pockets of his pants, grabbed the handle of his briefcase and headed for the subway. The lock on his front door clicked like it had every morning for the last two years. He stifled a yawn for whatever reason, feeling anything but tired. 

 

\------

 

Makoto was good at tedious work. It required little thinking, and she wondered at times if that made her brain empty. She, of course, tucked those little whispers away and focused on the task at hand even more. Perhaps that’s why she liked chores so much, for they kept her mind busy so not to think about the things that  _ really _ bothered her. Things stayed the same more or less when it came to the upkeep at the church. As a postulant still, Makoto had been assigned to do much of the ‘housework’ around the place as an indicator of her committment to God and to the church. Thankfully for the elder Sisters there, she didn’t mind it, and their statuses were unaffected. 

 

If there was one thing she  _ did _ hate, it was doing unrequired work. For whatever made-up reason, Makoto found herself with a list of chores that she knew for certain had no real testimonies to her faith to God. And so, she found herself plotting new plants along the sides of the church building. It was cold, and she hated touching dirt. She stifled a loud sigh, exhaling to catch her breath when she stood up. The sun had finally shown itself. 

 

“Good morning.”

 

She didn’t scare easily, but the voice was male and she had hardly heard one in weeks before yesterday. She let out a small sound from her throat, and jumped.

 

“Sorry, did I scare you? I promise I didn’t mean to.”

 

She turned to face the voice now. Clad in the same black as her stood an unfamiliar man with dark grey eyes that met her red ones immediately as she turned. Makoto memorized his face almost immediately, a skill or curse that she had. Her eyes scanned his long, thick lashes down to the point of his tall nose, and she noted the way the corner of his lips curved upwards like that of a cat. She couldn’t say that she knew this man, but he was dressed like a priest. 

 

“No,” Makoto assured, standing up to brush the dirt from the palms of her hands, “I just didn’t recognize your voice was all.”

 

“Ah, given your circumstances, I can see why. You have the company of your sisters.”

 

“Yes, exactly what I was thinking,” she said, smiling, “Are you visiting?”

 

“Actually, I’m sure you’re familiar with the turn of events from the other night. Very unfortunate. May she rest in peace,” he said, gesturing the sign of Christ, “I’ve been sent here to keep an eye on your convent until the police have finished their investigation and located the culprit. I shouldn’t be too much of a disturbance, I don’t think. They’ve allocated an entirely separate wing for me.”

 

“I wish your welcome were better, Brother…?”

 

“Father, actually. No need to apologize, I only gained the title fairly recently. Call me Father Ren if you’d like, but there’s no need for formalities between you and me.”

 

She flushed ever so slightly at her mistake. It was strange. He was so young, or he at least looked as such. He was strikingly handsome, and charming. Had Makoto kept her status of layman, she’d love to pick at his brain, perhaps mimic the way he spoke so prettily. She realized she’d been caught up in her thoughts again and snapped out of it.

 

“Makoto.”

 

“Just Makoto? Given your garb, I doubt the convent would put their gardeners in habits-”

 

“No, sorry. Sister Makoto. I’m fairly new to my role as well. Sorry,” she said quietly.

 

“No need to apologize twice, Sister. I was only teasing,” he smiled, the curve of the right side of his lip noticeably higher than the right. 

 

Makoto wanted to comment on how light-hearted he seemed for a priest. But she found in the past that people tend to joke around tense people. Her face was unchanging no matter how much she tried to smile back and lighten up.

 

“You must be busy, and I must be on my way. I’m sorry for interrupting-”

 

“No! I mean- You weren’t interrupting,” she said hoarsely, realizing near the end that she sounded like she wanted him to stay, “Please, I hope you don’t feel like I’m trying to make you leave.”

 

He responded with a wider grin.

 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. I hope I’ll see you then, Sister. Perhaps you can show me around the convent when you’re finished with your tasks and we can talk more,” he said lowly.

 

“Yes, of course,” she nodded, eyes glancing to meet his again before he turned to walk away.

 

She wasn’t particularly good at reading others, but she swore she saw his eyes light up at her response. He slipped around the corner and disappeared. The greeting did nothing but distract her the rest of the time she worked- she thought about his words, how charming he was, and the way his voice seemed to float around in her head. She was interrupted twice that morning.

 

“You look awfully happy doing chores.”

 

This voice she recognized, and how she loathed it even though it was effectively the second time she heard it. She turned around, mood now sour, and her brows knitted to face the one and only, Detective Akechi Goro. He looked particularly peeved for some reason, and she’d take a wild guess and say it was because the case was anything but flashy for his status. He peered at her with a cocked brow, awaiting her answer.

 

“If it’s for G-”

 

“Right, right. Sorry to cut in on your busy work, but we need to head to the precinct,” he cut in.

 

She frowned, and regrettably forgot that she had agreed to go with him, and she had to throw in the name of the Lord as well. Inside, she screamed, but outside she was calm and collected. She was hardly fit to go anywhere when her eyes scanned the length of her habit, smudges of dirt and debris dusted across the entire bottom, though she couldn’t request for more time to get ready. After all, she was headed to a morgue of sorts and she’d be overdressed anyways. 

 

“Today?” she asked sheepishly.

 

“Cold feet?” he dared.

 

“Hardly. I didn’t know autopsy reports were finished so quickly,” she bit back.

 

“It wasn’t particularly hard to pinpoint since it  _ was _ a suicide after all.”

 

She felt her heart seize up at his response. Makoto knew it couldn’t have been a suicide, yet it was being overruled as one and it made her heart sink. There was little she would be able to do to change anyone’s minds. 

 

“Let’s get it over with then,” she sighed.

 

Akechi’s eyes wandered the length of her body. She’d been dressed so heavily in that garment it made it hard to make out any figure, but he noticed that no matter where she went, she seemed to always have her rosary wound around her neck, or several times around her wrist. Makoto exhaled when she realized how much she needed to clean up, and given that her work was outside, she couldn’t just leave it be and wait to come back to it. It was bad manners, and equally so to request that the detective wait for her. He watched her as she juggled the tools in one arm and two heavy pots in the other, but he didn’t offer his help. 

 

“Just give me a minute,” she muttered lowly.

 

The walk to the shed was a short one, but she was already out of breath when she reached inside, kicking the door open. The dropped everything onto the dusty old table and lowly cursed at the detective for making her feel rushed. Makoto let out an aggravated sigh, caught her breath and left to get the rest of the pots. She reached for the door, only for it to barge open the other direction. She yelped. Akechi had abandoned his briefcase and suit jacket. With the sleeves of his crisp, white shirt rolled up, he juggled the rest of the empty pots in both arms.

 

“Where do you want these?” he asked.

 

For the first time, this man caught her off guard.

 

“Uh…. anywhere.”

 

He glanced at her briefly, and bent down ever so slightly to roll the pots onto the closest table. Makoto swallowed in embarrassment as she went to instinctively tuck the short hairs along her cheeks behind her ear. She’d forgotten the habit sat on her head. 

 

“Thank you but… your shirt is dirty now,” she commented quietly.

 

“Want to wash it for me?” he asked, rolling down his sleeves back to his wrists.

 

Makoto’s eyes caught a glance of his forearms, and the smallest sliver of discoloration on the inside of his wrists. It strangely resembled a scar, or something else entirely. But above that, she realized how strong he was given his stature. It was hardly anything she’d imagine, and she flushed when she caught herself thinking about it.

 

“Sorry?”

 

“Joking. Come, I have a job to do,” he said, brushing past her to exit the shed.

 

Makoto’s eyes didn’t betray her this time, and noted the slivers were scars. They ran down the length of his left wrist and stopped short of an inch. 

 

When she got into the car with Akechi, her mind couldn’t stop thinking about those scars and how he got them. Perhaps they were from the dangers of his job, or perhaps they were self-inflicted. She glanced over at him a few times and her eyes averted gracefully whenever his would lock with hers. Her eyes settled on the view of the outside this time as she took in the scene before her. She didn’t have the luxury of being the passenger most of the time when she lived at home, so the feeling was a rare one.

 

Akechi wondered about her more than he should’ve. It was as if she were a book he’d only heard about but never read. The vehicle announced their arrival at the precinct and snapped them both out of their thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Father Ren is not Amamiya Ren.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is graphic as it describes the human body in detail. Please read at your discretion.

“Let’s cut to the chase shall we?” Akechi said in a hurried voice.

 

Makoto said nothing and followed briskly after him, her heels clicking and echoing against the floor. The length of her habit would’ve dragged behind her had she not worn them. Akechi didn’t know this though. Why would he need to know? The tapping of her heels had some sort of rhythm to them, and they were making such a loud noise that it snapped him from any potential thoughts he had.

 

“Too early for banter?” he asked playfully, his mouth tugged into a smirk.

 

“I thought you said we’d cut to the chase,” she fired back.

 

“Hm, thought I lost you for a second there,” he chimed, “We’re making a left.”

 

She followed after him like the place was her second home. It took him a moment to realize it, but it seemed as if it wasn’t her first time at the precinct.

 

“You walk like you work here,” he added, pushing against the door that barred their entry.

 

“All precincts are the same, are they not? Door after door, it’s no different than the convent really,” she said aimlessly.

 

He stopped walking to turn to her. Makoto had to skid ever so slightly, taking half a step back in order not to bump into him. He gave her a look that she could hardly describe, but in those red-brown eyes, it seemed like there was trauma. 

 

“You’d be surprised how cruel the real world can be. You’re safe in your convent, aren’t you?” he spoke.

 

She felt poison in his words. His mouth moved, and words came, but all she could see were the way those eyes seemed to bore into hers. They seemed lonely, as if he woke up that morning and he had been waking up to the same morning for his entire life. He was tired, it seemed, though Makoto couldn’t say. She had been tired for a very long time.

 

“You’d learn a thing or two if you stopped analyzing people solely based on the few words they’ve said to you,” she said slowly.

 

She knew it to be true, and he did as well. He didn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she was right.

 

“Perhaps I’d learn even more if I converted right now?” he combatted.

 

Makoto kept quiet, her lower lip quivered ever so slightly. He noticed. His smirk grew wider.

 

“Chin up, I’m only hard on you because I know you can take it,” he assured.

 

“Are all detectives like you? They search for every opportunity to uncover something about others when they hardly know themselves. Need I remind you, I’m here to prove something to you, or is this a contest on who can have the last word?” 

 

He blinked once. The silence was deafening, and the echoes of the footsteps of others who roamed the halls seemed to slice into their conversation. He sensed something in her, a brooding that he could recognize as resentment at the world, at him, or at someone else. Perhaps it was God Himself. He recognized it all too well for he knew those eyes when he looked upon himself. She wasn’t afraid to look at him, and she stared unblinkingly it seemed. She had nothing to hide behind those eyes because they were tucked away so deep inside her where no one could hurt her. She was safe. 

 

“This way,” he said, finally turning from those red eyes.

 

\------

 

Makoto had seen a dead body before. Her father used to cover her eyes with his hand whenever one showed up on the tv. This only made her curiosity grow, and she placated his stern lectures about the dangers of becoming a police officer. She grew fond of his career and admired his motivation and drive, though it meant that she saw him less and less. The first time she’d ever seen a dead body was an unfortunate one. It was his. She was barely a teenager, and she was the first one they had called. Sae hadn’t the time to pick up. Everything from that point on was a blur, but she distinctively remembered how cold his hand was when she brushed against his fingers. His skin had turned pale blue by the time she had arrived, and it was the coldest thing she had ever felt. Her eyes turned to meet his open ones right as the medics went to toss the crisp white sheet over his body. 

 

Makoto didn’t have any tears left that day for she had shed all of them after receiving a barely-above average grade on her practice exam in cram school. She was scared of disappointing her father, though it never crossed her mind that his life could be in danger to the point where she’d lose him. Everything changed after that day and Sae became someone else entirely.

 

The memory passed through her mind like that of a recording. She watched it often enough in her dreams that she could hardly tell what was real or what was a dream anymore. Except, the notes of his autopsy had been emailed to her even though it was meant for Sae. She hid it under an Untitled folder in her inbox, and never spoke of it to Sae. ‘Murdered on the job’ was the official autopsy. He died doing what he loved, though that didn’t sit well with her sister. 

 

This ‘suicide’ didn’t sit well with Makoto.

 

“Er, Detective Akechi, did you sign your guest in?” the pathologist asked.

 

“No need,” he brushed him off, “The autopsy is done, isn’t it? We’re only here to examine the body.”

 

“There’s… nothing wrong with the autopsy is it?” the man continued slowly.

 

“We’ll see,” Akechi said idly, glancing at Makoto, “You may leave.”

 

Makoto was speechless at how he dismissed the man so casually, though he didn’t need to be told twice. The poor doctor scurried out of the room and the heavy door shut quietly. 

 

“Do you think they ever get used to it?” he asked her after a brief moment.

 

Her brow heightened for a moment, wondering what kind of question that was and why he was so hellbent on playing with what she was possibly thinking.

 

“I’d like to see her, please,” Makoto said slowly.

 

Akechi blinked and looked away. He set his attache case somewhere clean, in this case, it was the doctor’s desk. Makoto eyed him when he opened it, pulling out what she assumed to be the autopsy report. It sat in a perfectly untouched yellow folder, seal still in place and unread it seemed. Her eyes darted quickly to whatever else he held in that case. Some pens, a laptop, and what appeared to be dark case that could only be holding a gun. He closed it, and turned to look at her, startling her for a moment.

 

He slid the papers out of its folder and into a clear plastic cover he’d pulled off the doctor’s desk, and then tucked it underneath his arm. He motioned for her to follow him, walking to the body lying furthest away from the door. A shiver ran up her spine when her body finally registered how cold the room was. Akechi didn’t seem to mind it. He didn’t ask if she was ready, and yanked off the cover on the body. 

 

Makoto exhaled, and didn’t dare to breathe in. Bruises covered the length of the poor girl’s neck and judging by how skinny she was, she could tell where her neck had snapped. The skin had scraped off the side of her cheek and all along her arm and stomach. Makoto whispered comforting words to herself, followed by a prayer as she clutched the rosary between her hands. Her eyes couldn’t look away from the scratches along her skin. She pieced them together in her mind, hoping it’d tell her everything she needed to know. Unfortunately, it seemed like everything matched up to a suicide. Her body trembled both at the cold and the thought of the poor Sister seeking such a terrible, unintended end.

 

“From when she jumped into the well,” Akechi commented. 

 

It was like he read her mind. Makoto stared at the body in front of her, her vision becoming blurry and her mind not strong enough to snap her back to reality. She felt like she had been staring at nothing for a long time. She was no coroner, nor in forensics. Her intuition was hardly any good compared to the Detective, clearly. But there was something wrong, and her gut told her there was over and over again. 

 

“Seen enough?” he asked her after several minutes had passed.

 

“Something… isn’t right,” she said softly.

 

He sighed, and she could see his facade disappearing. She blinked a few times, eyes dry. He was finished humoring her.

 

“Look-”

 

“Her hair.”

 

He waited for her to finish.

 

“We’re not required to cut our hair when we receive our habits,” she continued, “And yet…”

 

One side was shorter than the other. Uneven. 

 

“Most of us will do it anyways since it’ll make wearing the habit much easier. She was further into her postulancy than me, and she was certain to enter the novitiate. There was no doubt about it,” Makoto said.

 

“Right. I know how convents and monasteries work. What’s your point?” he pushed.

 

“But the convent… While it is entirely up to the person whether or not the enter the convent, there’s still this small selective process. Why would she cut her hair even before she knew that she’d be accepted?” 

 

“This isn’t particularly my field of expertise-”

 

“I know, that’s why  _ I’m  _ enlightening you.”

 

“Oh?” the tone of his voice shifted.

 

“A more base question. We’re not allowed any possessions when we enter the convent, even if we’re postulants. How did she find the time to both acquire scissors and cut her hair?” Makoto asked him.

 

“Makoto. You’re asking the wrong questions.”

 

“I’m not!” she practically hissed.

 

Akechi’s brows knitted now, realizing his mistake. He came here with her to prove that she was wrong, and she was idealizing the suicide to be ruled as anything but. Her attachment to her faith made him realize how far gone she probably was. He was a fool to think there was something else. Her questions probed his mind for a brief second before he overruled it entirely. There was no way. He slipped the autopsy from under his arm and pushed it towards her. Makoto had no choice but to accept the papers. Her right hand hurt from squeezing her rosary the entire time.

 

“Read that. It seems you’re the one who needs to be  _ enlightened _ ,” he said coldly. 

 

He pushed past her, barely touching the fabric of her arm and she visibly flinched. Akechi froze, his eyes in slits as he looked upon her face. She grimaced at the action even though it was practically nothing. It was his turn to be confused. In the brief moment, he noticed her eyes read fear. Were his words so painful to receive that she’d actually been physically hurt by it? He pushed forward like it was nothing, picking up his attache case and walking out the door. 

 

Makoto pursed her lips. His voice crackled like the lightning that night her father died. In the brief moment that the darkness hid his face, lightning flashed bright and faded it away, signifying that he was lifeless. She’d been afraid of lightning since. Sometimes Sae’s voice rose when she spoke to her, and the fear she received from her words were often scarier than anything she could have done to her physically. Akechi was the second person she’d experienced this with, and it wasn’t with his words. He had barely brushed past her, but she was afraid. Her fingers were shaking and she focused in on how they twitched as they held onto the autopsy report. 

 

She couldn’t read it, for she knew it wasn’t true. She didn’t have many moments of epiphanies like these, but Makoto would push forward just like her father taught her to. She clutched the report in her hands, murmuring a prayer for her late Sister before leaving the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Ironically, the long, black garb that the nun adorned made it all to obvious the figure underneath. The wrinkle in the curve of the fabric from her hips as she walked only drew Akechi’s eyes to her. It made him uncomfortable how obvious it appeared given how the garment was meant to symbolize anything but the lingering thoughts that tugged his mind down the gutter. He gave in for a brief moment when she walked ahead of him and his mind wandered loosely. 

 

Unfortunately for him, the hallway was a long one and he stared for much longer than he should’ve. He snapped back when the sound her heels were no longer audible. Makoto froze in front of him, shoulders hunched in fear. 

 

Sae Niijima. 

 

Makoto followed with indescribable actions, neither an attempt to hide or confront was made, causing her to stand completely still as if she’d hoped she’d go unnoticed.

 

Sae looked angry, most of his reasoning for that was based on how her brows seemed to knit forward at the sight of him coming her way. Her purplish lip-lined mouth pulled taut in a frown when his own lips curved upwards at her presence. Her footsteps rang through his ears, echoing familiarly.

 

“Akechi. Leave it to you to play in the morgue,” Sae said dryly. 

 

“Sae.”

 

First name basis, Makoto noted. She could only look down as Akechi walked past her and Sae continued towards him. 

 

“I’m assuming the case you’ve taken up is an interesting one? I wouldn’t usually find you down here,” she continued coolly.

 

Makoto shivered at the voice, averting her gaze entirely as she sank into the background. Thankfully, Sae hadn’t given her a second thought even given how conspicuous it was for a nun to be in a precinct. She bit down on her lip bitterly at the thought of Sae caring about nothing other than herself. 

 

“Hardly,” Akechi answered, “Someone from the convent was interested in seeing the body for herself. I thought I’d accompany her and lay any suspicions to rest.”

 

Makoto hated the way he targeted her in that last sentence. She hated how he referred to her as “someone.” But that was all she was. Just another acquaintance of the victim’s who wouldn’t budge. She remembered how Sae would bag on family members who’d tell her how certain they were about the true outcomes, and how she’d scoff at the fragile hearts of people, followed with bragging about how the cruel death of her father only made her stronger and harden like a rock. 

 

Sae’s eyes averted for a moment to look at the nun. 

 

“Convent? Then this place is hardly- Makoto?”

  
  


Makoto felt her heart stop, ringing in her ears louder than the first time she had heard bullets fired in her own home.

 

“... Makoto.”

 

Sae was sure. 

 

“ _ This  _ is what you’ve been doing? Really? A few mean words and you convert yourself into some nun?!” Her voice peaked like a shrill.

 

Makoto opened her mouth to speak and no words could come out. She felt dizzy, and a terrible feeling churned in her stomach. Death felt more welcoming than anything at this moment.

 

“Please…” Makoto pleaded, voice breaking.

 

She flinched away from her own words. What was she pleading for anyways? Forgiveness for running away from home and turning away from all the  _ kind  _ gestures that Sae had shown her while growing up? 

 

_ Ungrateful. You’re useless to me. All you do is eat away at my life. _

 

The words came rushing back to her now. She felt sick to her stomach and recoiled in fear as Sae approached her. In the lapse of her own judgment, Makoto winced and began to sob openly.

 

“Sae?” Akechi asked, thoroughly confused, “You’re related?”

 

“Huh… guess not anymore. Abandoning your life and burdening me even more. I should’ve known. You’re ungrateful for everything I’ve done for you, Makoto. It shows,” Sae continued, “You can’t even look at me.”

 

Makoto trembled. Fear ran up and down her spine like a xylophone and she thought she’d passed out. 

 

“And you-“ 

 

She was speaking to Akechi now.

 

“I don’t even know where to start. I shouldn’t even care how you got my sister down to the precinct, but do some thinking would you? You’re always so wrapped up in making sure you get the last word and you only end up wasting your own damn time running in these circles.”

 

“Sae, I’ve no idea what’s going on between the two of you and really, I don’t think I should be caught in the middle of this,” Akechi said calmly, adjusting his tie.

 

He cleared his throat and began to excuse himself when he felt something cold against his wrist. In her desperation, Makoto reached out to him. Static. Cold static. A feeling enough to resemble the touch of metal or when you first press your naked back into the bathtub. That’s what Makoto felt like. 

 

It was uncalled for, and it caught him off guard. He felt her fingers wrapped around his wrist trembling and suddenly he knew. 

 

She ran. And as if she knew he’d oblige when she grabbed his wrist, Akechi followed without resistance. He ran, too, and he didn’t know why except that innately he wanted to be where Makoto would go. Sae didn’t follow. She had no reason to.

 

———

 

Coward. Disgrace. Burden. Ungrateful. 

 

Makoto always imagined that she was diligent. Intelligent, knowledgeable, the like. It all went down the drain when it came to Sae. The thoughts tumbled through her brain, breaking down the flimsy walls she’d built in the past few months that she had been away from her sister. She clutched onto a railing in front of the precinct, head down as tears dropped onto her clenched hands. Akechi patted her back mechanically for a moment before pulling away at the sound of her light sobbing. 

 

He truly didn’t have a place in all of this, and it made him breathe easy to rationalize her behavior and Sae’s yet— he wanted to be a hero once too. Comforting wasn’t his forte, he’d sooner give unwarranted advice that no one asked for followed with an “I told you so.” But, he couldn’t say that here. There was nothing to say, and he felt out of place. He had texted the driver to pull around the front once he noticed her settling down. Her eyes weren’t swollen, but tears had stained her cheeks and Makoto didn’t bother to wipe them away. It shocked him to see that she looked more or less the same as before. The once-broken barrier in front of him had manifested back as it were, this time with a new set of cracks. Pieces had been chipped off, and Akechi felt like he could see her better. 

 

He watched her struggle with awkward eye contact for a moment before staring him dead in the eyes. She hardened up fast, catching him by surprise like nothing had happened. 

 

“I have things to do back at the convent,” she said quietly, “If you could-“

 

Her voice was clear, crisp. No signs of sniffling or shakiness. It was as if she’d mastered the art of pretending. She trailed off, hoping he’d finish her thought, as her lips curled up ever so slightly in a secretive smirk.

 

“Way ahead of you,” he said, motioning to the car behind him.

 

The tire skidded along the street as it made its stop. The engine wasn’t a loud one, but Makoto welcomed sounds other than her uneven and breathing and the painful display of the detective trying to be a decent human being. 

 

She reached for the handle, beaten to it by Akechi’s gloved hand. Her eyes lingered on it briefly before robotically stepping forward into the car. He closed the door behind her with a small slam and walked to the driver’s side. He slipped an immaculately cut card to the driver, muttered a few words before nodding and walking back around. Makoto’s eyes slanted forward when he leaned into the window as it rolled down.

 

“I also have things to do,” he sighed, “unfortunately.”

 

Unfortunately?

 

“He’s going to take you back to the convent.”

 

She figured as much.

 

“And the case?” she added. 

 

He sighed again, coming apart at the seams, fraying along the edges. 

 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

 

She liked his words. It implied he had a change of heart, though she often got ahead of herself when it came to assuming things. She’d rely on faith to get her justice this time. 

 

“Detective,” she piped up, “thank you.”

 

He swallowed and she noticed. There was a twitch along his jaw and she noticed as he held back a small smile. Akechi had done so seamlessly around Sae, but the moment he set foot into the church grounds, he painted facade seemed to fall. Makoto returned whatever expression he tried to give her with a genuine half-smile. 

 

Her hand fell down from the window as it began to roll back up. The last thing he saw was her red eyes glittering against the flickers of the glass, and her mysterious smile. It wasn’t wicked, and hardly innocent, but it made him decide that she was beautiful. He preferred his people transparent for it tugged and massaged his ego. She was sharp and witty, pressing his buttons with the twirl of her fingers, smiling in secret much to his confusion. 

 

Her eyes lidded, she blinked and then the tinted window masked any sense of her presence from him. She disappeared around the corner in the car, and he denied wishing she could’ve stayed. Helped him on the case. Only that. 

 

Sae entered his mind again and what leftover words she didn’t get to say to Makoto, he’d definitely be hearing it now. He was party to their bickering, and for the briefest moment, found himself with his eyes closed, listening to the silence around him.

 

He found the perfect balance outside, a peace uninterrupted and away from the rustle of papers and the loud humming of the ceiling lights. 

 

Akechi breathed out and pushed himself off the rail. 

 

———

 

_ Does it surprise you so? You wanted to be the hero once too. _

 

The words came to him in a monologue as he thought about the nun. He called her as such to put some distance between them, and it helped for a moment. Then in some self-fulfilling way, she entered the forefront of his mind all the same. When he imagined her, he thought of her vulnerability, shoulders hunched over as she collapsed into herself like an injured animal. From behind, he heard the quiet sobs and felt awkwardness at being unable to say something for once. Akechi was snarky, his quips came almost instantly. Yet when it came to comforting others-

 

_ You, too, felt adversity a long time ago. _

 

He’d argue he still felt it now, only differently. He decided that he lacked the ability to vocalize empathy, not that he lacked empathy. Empathetic words used to come more naturally when he wanted to be relatable, but he found that they were empty shells of feelings he lied to himself about to feel human. 

 

He’d argue he still wanted to be a hero. Those were his last thoughts before he drifted into a restless sleep. 

 

Dreams came to him in a blur where motions, movements and visions passed by him like sand in the wind. Words echoed louder than someone speaking to him in full coherence. A woman’s voice. He thought it was his mother’s, like he’d often dreamt about, but this time it was different. It was soft, and it pulled him in, coaxing him deeper into the pitch black. 

 

Red eyes greeted him suddenly, and he knew his subconscious that this nun would grow to be much more than what he would bargain for. She materialized in front of him now, clad in nothing but pure white. Some sort of indescribable material clung to the curves of her body, her appearance no longer hidden under that habit. In his dreams, she came to him as a woman that his mind had crafted all on its own. 

 

He hadn’t touched her, only felt the warmth of her shoulder when he attempted to comfort her, but he felt her in his dreams. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist the same way she’d pulled him away from her sister in the precinct. Akechi felt like his skin was set on fire. He groaned and yelped when she wouldn’t let go even as he pulled away. Her grip tightened as she closed the distance between them, making him recoil out of fear. Her free hand touched his shoulder now, the fabric that clothed him burning to a crisp. 

 

She held him firmly as her hand roamed across his chest and then eventually up his neck to touch his face. Akechi’s body was on fire, the movements and touch unfamiliar to him, and so painful that he had remembered why he flinched at any human contact. There was no doubt the shape of her hand would be etched into his skin by now, her red eyes staring with great curiosity as she hurt him.

 

_ You think everyone’s out to hurt you? Don’t you know that no one cares enough to even come near you?  _

 

“Stop-“

 

_ Monster. _

 

His words came out like smoke and evaporated before they could make sound. And as if she’d never seen such a thing before, the nun’s eyes grew wide and then closed shut. Akechi watched her desperately, writhing painfully as she inched closer. She released his wrist, both hands reaching up to cup his face in one quick motion and her lips landed on his. 

 

Bliss. She tasted like bliss. All the burning sensations evaporated away when her lips met his and he sighed into her mouth, eyes fluttering close. His hands gently reached for her face, feeling around experimentally as he sought more of that blissfulness. And in his hands, she turned into dust. 

 

And then he woke up. For the first time in years, Akechi Goro woke up late. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends, old and new— to those of you leaving me comments in Pining, thank you! I haven’t been able to respond properly since I’m nearing the end of a hectic month, so thanks for understanding. Writing will pick up sometime this summer as I flesh out the story a little bit more. I’m grateful there are so many of you that enjoy this ship, so thank you again for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> loyalty and betrayal

Makoto nodded off during morning prayer, eyes weighing heavy and dry as the droning voice continued flatly without disruption. The chorus of amens woke her up briefly, and then the shuffle of bodies snapped her back awake. 

 

She dreamt last night, too, though it was a dream she’d long forgotten. Her few hours at the precinct became an extra few hours of duties she had to tend to until curfew, and she ended up skipping dinner entirely. She woke up starving, sleep deprived and snappy. 

 

“I didn’t bore you did I?” came a smooth voice. 

 

“Huh? Oh- Father…-“

 

“Ren,” said Ren.

 

“N-no, sorry. I remember. Forgive me, I didn’t get much sleep last night,” she said quickly. 

 

He tilted his head, unresponsive as he eyed her. Makoto’s first thoughts were that he had forgotten who she was. Her second thoughts were that she looked like all her other sisters and he was simply making conversation because he noticed that she was lacking in participation during prayer and- 

 

“Don’t worry. We’re God’s children, and He sees all. I pray you find better rest tonight,” he said, smiling softly. 

 

She pondered what he meant for a moment, and then forgot about it completely. Makoto aimed to test him on his memory. 

 

“The flowers,” she brought up, “I used to pot them alongside another classmate in school. I suppose I was lucky that they- that God willed me a task I’m good at. Still, it’s hard work.”

 

She paused, and noticed his grey eyes. They were so different from the pair she had to stare at just yesterday. Father Ren’s eyes smiled, leaving him anything but transparent. Though Makoto would never be able to read them anyways. His eyes matched the curve of his lips now. 

 

“That’s what made you so tired, I assume. You seemed out of breath when I spoke to you yesterday,” he commented. 

 

“Ah, so you do remember.”

 

“Of course, Sister,” he said slowly, each syllable enunciated and dragged out for subconscious effect, “You’re not just anyone.”

 

The man spoke in riddles. 

 

“What do you mean by that?” she asked bluntly. 

 

He walked past her, down the path of the long seats towards the window. The paned glass sparkled off the slick of his black hair, and she noticed for the first time how different he seemed from the detective in motions. He was smooth, every step he took with ease, and he seemed to lead life with surety and confidence. 

 

“You’re valuable here,” he answered her after a while, “You’re not just someone in God’s eyes.”

 

Makoto was flattered. Dumbfounded at his words, even. She had to clench her jaw to ensure her mouth had not fallen agape (it hadn’t).

 

“Th-thank you. To hear you say that-“

 

“I’m sure you hear it all the time,” he cut in.

 

“Not at all. I’ve heard it much more since I’ve been here than anywhere else,” she said softly, eyes averting his secretive gaze.

 

There came a few clicks on the floor and then a press of warmth on her shoulder. Makoto snapped her eyes forward to meet Ren’s. His hand on her shoulder, smile ever-knowing, Makoto felt uneasy and her heart beat unevenly. 

 

“Then you are where you need to be,” he said.

 

His hand lingered on her shoulder for a moment longer before it fell to his side. He sidestepped around her, walked down the long aisle with the Bible clutched in one arm. And then he was gone, and without a goodbye. 

 

Makoto felt at ease, albeit confused.

 

———

 

Akechi’s legs gave out when he finally reached the station. He had to skip his morning workout and the shower he took was not as long as he had liked. By the time he’d jumped in, all the hot water was more or less gone and he felt disgusting. He made it a point to set an alarm for the next day begrudgingly, cursing whatever (or whoever) it was that had ruined his perfect two year streak. He was disappointed in himself, and he came up short with nothing to show for it except a mind buzzing with unwanted thoughts. Why had  _ she  _ plagued his lingering thoughts before he slept anyway? 

 

There was nothing special about Makoto. No, he lied. He liked that she was fragile for it made his ego bulge. He pondered for a moment, realized it wasn’t the best way of validating himself, felt guilty when he remembered her hunched over the railing in tears, and stepped into the building.

 

He liked her, he decided. He wouldn’t have spent so much time provoking her if he hadn’t. Akechi couldn’t pinpoint why he had such a hard time accepting it until he realized he’d known her for less than a week. Still, he kept it as a secret from himself. Sure, she felt strangely similar to what he was a few years ago, but that was a hatchet he had long buried. 

 

_ The nun _ questioned him with a question, never probing for a second how he’d come to his conclusions. Perhaps she’d been smart enough to derive that all on her own that it didn’t warrant the useless question. At this point, Akechi could see that her resemblance to Sae wasn’t unsurprising. Still, the words that the prosecutor jabbed in that hallway even made him flinch. The nun was sharp, and for a brief moment Akechi thought it a shame that she’d be squandering her life in that way. It wasn’t his place to say anything. It’d be none of his business.

 

Sae sat alone in the lobby staring dead straight at something on her laptop. Usually he’d go over to pester her too, but he was feeling particularly under the weather today given the rocky start to his morning and the awkward encounter yesterday. He attempted to slip by her.

 

“Good morning to you too,” she muttered under her breath.

 

Akechi’s mouth twitched and he smoothly turned around to walk back towards her.

 

“Ah, Sae-sa-“

 

“Save it, don’t need your excuses. That case you’re working on.”

 

“The one at the convent?” he asked, tilting slightly.

 

“Where is it?” 

 

Ah. Leave it to her to be so blunt, though he saw through her desires. He cleared his throat.

 

“It’s located 34 kilometers north of-“

 

“Send me the address,” she snapped, closing her laptop with a click.

 

“You’re… going to go investigate?”

 

“Don’t be stupid, detective. That’s your job. It’s my sister. She skipped out on her college entrance exams to go play religious, and that doesn’t fly with me. Not after all I’ve done for her,” she explained coldly.

 

“Sae, you’re pretty open about sharing this with me, aren’t you? Not to be offensive but I really would prefer not to get involved,” he said.

 

She turned to him, signature pose with her arms crossed and temples knitted.

 

“You’re the one who asked the dumb question,” she pointed out.

 

Tough love. He’d never really had a knack for that kind of woman.

 

“So what, you’re going to go to the convent and give a religious woman a piece of your relentless judgment? Maybe she’s happy leading this kind of life.”

 

“She’s not that slight, but she is a coward running away from her life like that. Does she even know how I slaved away to make sure that she’d become successful?” Sae asked herself.

 

“Think through it some more. You’re operating solely on anger here. You’ll only end up doing something you’ll regret.”

 

“My only regret is not being harder on her,” she said half listening, tucking her laptop into her briefcase and brushing past him.

 

She was stubborn. Just like her sister. 

 

———

 

Akechi was restless, retreading the same passages to no avail, his brain retaining none of the information. His eyes wandered to his pen, and then to the miscellaneous items on his desk, finding such interest in absolutely nothing. He wanted to see her again but for no reason at all. It was interesting to say the least, and he found himself petrified at the idea of fondness. He’d never been so distracted. She’d ruined his perfect morning streak by plaguing his mind with ‘what ifs.’ He shook his head, feeling disgusted and forced himself to read the autopsy again. There was nothing, he knew that to be true, why was he even bothering? 

 

He’d promised. 

 

Akechi gathered his things, shoving them all into his attaché case haphazardly and pulled out his phone. Cursing inwardly, he walked outside into the crisp cold as he awaited the driver.

 

———

 

The sun was setting earlier and earlier, and Makoto found herself reminiscing about the long nights she spent in cram school away from the cold. She’d been lucky Sae was always so adamant about coming to pick her up, ensuring that she’d come straight home to do her homework, get ready for bed, rinse and repeat. The feeling of dread settled into her stomach as she pondered at her purpose at the convent. The warmth she felt from Father Ren earlier had put her to ease, though she found herself questioning why he had singled her out. For a moment, she pondered the lowest probability that she was special, unique or even that she stood out, and the thought left as soon as her fingers found the rosary’s cool edge. 

 

She’d never been special, nor did she ever want to be. Makoto sought to be invisible, blending in so that her life would be an easy one. Her talents set her above her classmates, but only because she gave an ounce of effort to even try and apply herself. Had her peers done the same, perhaps she wouldn’t have stood out so much, been pushed and elected student council president and all the duties that came with it. She’d go to a decent school regardless of extracurriculars, lead a simple life, get married and die happy at her deathbed. Deep down, she was good. Everything she did was vastly mediocre for her end would be the same as everyone else’s. 

 

Then why did she miss that life so much?

 

Her thoughts were interrupted when a familiar vehicle pulled up near the gates of the convent. The sun was setting faster and faster, and a sudden feeling of panic set in as she wondered who it could’ve been at this time. Brown hair peeked out of the door when the car was put into neutral, and out came the detective Makoto wished she’d never bother to entangle with. He seemed out of breath, brushing his coat down quickly before making his way around the car. Makoto squinted, brows furrowing as he inched closer to the entrance of the gate. He had no reason to be here other than to report on a finding or further a “dead” investigation, and for a quick moment, her heart skipped a beat thinking that the autopsy could’ve been wrong. 

 

The other nuns had simply avoided any interaction with the outside world and hurried into their chambers. Makoto approached the gate, hand wrapping around the rosary tightly, and the other around the cool metal of the bar.

 

“I’m seeing you more and more around here, detective. But I have a feeling it’s not because you bear news about your case, is it?” she said callously. 

 

Akechi could hardly break a sheepish smile given the fact that it was true.

 

“Hm, no. Not quite.”

 

“What is it then? Certainly it’s not because you haven’t reached your banter quota elsewhere and I’m your last resort?” she continued snarkily.

 

“You’d be my first choice if I had one. But we wouldn’t want people thinking we’re in love,” he said, brown eyes recording her reaction carefully. 

 

She stood emotionless much to his chagrin, though it stopped any oncoming remarks. Makoto regained her composure by straightening her back, shaking her head slightly and tugging her lips upwards, ignoring his comment.

 

“What can I do for you, detective?” she asked politely.

 

“I need you to come with me,” he said lowly.

 

Makoto narrowed her eyes. Did he actually come bearing news on the case then? She felt her heart stop and her stomach flip flop at the mere thought. 

 

“Where are we going?” she asked slowly.

 

“Your sister is coming.”

 

Makoto froze, heart sinking. A million things ran through her mind— what would she say? Why? How did she find out? She stood like a child contemplating the consequences of stealing, only to keep her frame moments later and clear her throat. 

 

“Oh? Walk with me then,” she said calmly, voice a little too high on the brink of cracking. 

 

Akechi gave her an indescribable, probably indignant look. She pursed her lips, eyebrows pulled taut in a painful way. He felt bad for giving Sae the ammo, though she would’ve found a way to find her sister regardless. He had simply hurried the process. He’d make up for it now. 

 

“You don’t want to drive somewhere?” he asked confused.

 

Makoto began to walk, her heels clicking on the pavement. The last of the setting sun casted shadows from the bars along her face like she was a prisoner. But for some reason, even in the sad look of her eyes, Akechi found sparks that twinkled in the light. A fire that had yet to burn out— he felt the push and pull of wanting to keep it going. He followed alongside her, the bars separating them. 

 

“I have nothing to fear from my sister here,” she said matter-of-factly.

 

Akechi and Makoto both knew that to not be true given her breakdown just the other day. 

 

“I’m safe here,” she added.

 

“You and I both know her words hurt more than anything physical she’s capable of,” he pointed out.

 

Makoto sighed, rustling the rosary in her hand, flipping and twirling the cross between her fingers. 

 

They stayed silent for a moment longer. Akechi walked beside her along the circumference of the gate, and she thought briefly of the ways she could placate her sister upon her impending arrival. Her heels clicked to the seconds of a clock. 

 

“I know,” she said, breaking the silence.

 

Akechi had felt so at peace walking beside her that he’d completely forgotten what he had said prior. They walked in silence around the church grounds like a prisoner with her guard. 

 

It wasn’t until they had made it almost once around the gate and the view of the car was made visible again did Makoto remember. 

 

“You came all this way to try and get me to leave with you?” she asked.

 

“The drive wasn’t a long one, and that’s a very friendly way of putting it, I suppose,” he said thoughtfully, and then stopped. 

 

Makoto took a few more steps before stopping. She turned to look at the detective, eyes unreadable. The arch of his brows softened when she ran her eyes over his face. She felt troubled when she saw his shoulders slump forward ever so slightly and his fist tighten over nothing. 

 

“It was actually my doing,” he murmured. 

 

Makoto’s gut reaction was a firm and brunt “what,” followed by anger. Akechi smirked at her reaction, though he realized it was his fault for causing it, and thus made his way to the convent to undo some of the damage. 

 

“So now what? You came all this way to  _ apologize _ ?” 

 

“I have nothing to be sorry for,” he frowned. 

 

“Then why did you come?” she asked, seething, “You told my sister where the convent was, and now you plan to set up shop and watch?”

 

“You assume too highly of me-“

 

“Then you came to warn me. I’m confused as to what human decency you have left after involving something that has nothing to do with you. What is it exactly?” she asked in a rushed manner. 

 

He exhaled, eyes forward as he watched her breathing hitch at his calm composure. Akechi took his time to answer, feeling no desire to calm the nun down. She wasn’t wrong. He knew they meant nothing to each other, and yet she felt like he owed her the right to not divulge information that he presumed was common knowledge. 

 

“She could have found you either way,” he said quietly.

 

Makoto blinked back tears, wondering why she even bothered to continue such a useless conversation. She felt trapped, given up by some person she’d just met a few days ago. He owed her nothing, and yet she felt so betrayed and lost. 

 

“I came here to patch up as much as I could because…. I realized it was a mistake,” he said after a long awkward moment. 

 

Makoto looked forward, afraid to meet his gaze and turned her head away. Her tears were clear as day now, and she bit down on her lip as hard as she could to stifle a sob. Akechi grimaced at the sight, wondering for what reason it could be that someone so seemingly rational could conjure up tears over a sister she’d basically abandoned for the life of a nun. He couldn’t relate, combing through the experiences he had growing up, he didn’t know what it was like to be loved, only abandoned. Makoto was clearly the one who abandoned her sister, and here she was racking up another emotional breakdown over her. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he mustered. 

 

Makoto hid her face in her hands, wiping the tears on her sleeve. The low buzz of the street lights were on as the sun had finally disappeared. She’d wasted her evening away out of fear that her sister might show, and instead she faced the man who’d given her away. Her heart was sore, and she felt so confused and distraught. Red eyes finally met his remorseful ones. Makoto wanted to know why he still stood there, watching her come undone at the seams. 

 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she repeated coldly. 

 

“I do. I realize that now. She asked me for the information and I gave it to her because there was no reason to.”

 

He was right, and even in her disheartened state, Makoto knew he was right. He owed her nothing, not even this visit he’d taken out of his time to do on his own. He held no loyalty to her, and yet he stood there apologizing. Akechi’s disposition seemingly changed when he saw her cry. She felt weak and pathetic. Useless. 

 

“Why do I get the feeling you’re enjoying this?” she asked quietly. 

 

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said, voice soft and gentle. 

 

His response should’ve angered her the most, but Makoto found no energy to fight him back anymore. She took her sleeve again to wipe at the remaining tears, took one more look at him before turning away. She wanted nothing more than to sink into her uncomfortable double bed, hide under the thing covers and fall asleep to the smell of incoming rain. Her long garment dusted into one hand, she hiked up the path of stairs back to the sleeping quarters.

 

“Sister Makoto-!”

 

She grimaced. In her moment of weakness, she displayed anger for a Samaritan who’d done nothing wrong and sought her forgiveness. Makoto realized it was the first time he’d really called her by her title, and the voice of reason struck her only then. Stopping momentarily, she hesitated before turning around slowly. Akechi winced at her defeated form, hunched over with a glow of dried tears on her face. Had her eyes not been red, he would’ve known for certain she had been crying. He didn’t see her as a nun in that light, but as a human who’d been hurt in the past and would only be hurt even more if the truth ever got to her. 

 

Akechi thought about his words. He wanted to tell her about the case, and that they did find something postmortem that they’d overlooked in the first pass. But he’d be lying. He wanted to tell her that he was going to work harder on the case to make sure they weren’t missing anything. That would be less of a lie. He wanted to tell her sorry again for revealing information to her sister about her location and stirring the pot of drama between the two, but he felt no loyalty to neither Sae nor Makoto. 

 

“Good night,” he said instead.

 

Makoto’s face softened back into her neutral state, wind billowing against her now-obviously thin garments. Her saw her shiver slightly before saying something. She’d been too far away for him to hear it, and voice too small and hurt to try and repeat it again. He could only hope it was a good night in returned, and not “don’t come over again.”

 

She turned away once more, and this time he didn’t stop her this time. He was alone, and the suddenly cold breeze did not leave him unaffected. Akechi’s gloved fingers traced the bars of the gate, and his eyes glossed over once her dark figure had disappeared into the night. He thought for a moment about his relationship with Sae and the long talks they’d have over cases. She never revealed anything about her life at home and she always seemed stressed out that no one could ever assume it was ejther over work or something at home. He saw the diligence and sharp wit that Sae had in Makoto now. However, Makoto was softer, more caring and closed up out of fear and distrust. Underneath all of that, Akechi now found it obvious that she had a desire to help others because she couldn’t help herself. 

 

He peered once more into the distance of the church before getting into the car. The strings in his heart began to detangle. 


	7. Chapter 7

That night, the bed at the convent seemed creakier than most. Makoto hadn’t realized she was tossing and turning. The nip of cold air made it hard to sleep and she held onto the blanket around her even tighter, hoping to coax any warmth it had yet to offer her. Sleeping on her side, she laid awake restless and thinking about how Akechi was probably fast asleep in the comfort of his warm apartment without even a doubt in his mind that he couldn’t have handled what had happened any better. The thought made a wet tear trail off the side of her face onto her pillow. She was angry, both times she’d cried now in front of him were out of pure anger. Makoto felt the pent up feelings unleash in the privacy of her room, and felt even more alone. She sobbed thinking about her father, and the life she led in Sae’s shadow. Muttering a quiet prayer to herself, she couldn’t bring herself to ask for better days. She thought about the sister who probably suffered long moments alone in pain at the bottom of the well and she felt dread seep into her thoughts. Makoto had to let go. She vowed to herself the next time she saw that detective that she’d keep all conversations focused on the case. The faster she could help assist him with evidence of her death, the sooner she could find justice for the nun, and then he’d leave her life, never to return. Makoto prayed for sleep. All she wanted was sleep, and the strength to push forward with her postulancy. 

 

Her fingers caressed the length of the cross on her rosary, the metal reminiscent of the trigger on the pistol the last night she felt it. She would ceremoniously pull it from under her bed every night before sleeping, unfolding it from the leather sleeve that held it in place. The cool metal reminded her that it was real and that she’d still have a way out in the end. The twist and turn in her stomach brought her back to reality when she mentally heard the shot fired the night her father died. Makoto was surprised the amount of blood didn’t make her feel sick. In fact, she found herself staring at the pool mesmerized. Justice wasn’t served that night, but she would do this one thing for the sake of proving she could. The thought that she could accomplish anything the police was more highly capable of made her consider for a moment that in another timeline, maybe it wouldn’t have been such a bad idea to follow in her father’s footsteps. It certainly would’ve kept her going, clawing away to find the justice in the end. Was it particularly different than wanting to see a certain outcome like in Sae’s case? Makoto wanted the truth, and only the truth. Sae wanted her own form of justice, a skewed one. Within a minute, she had wrapped up the gun again, tying off the string so that it looked like any old thing of belongings, and shoved it under the bed until she heard the thud of it hitting the foot. 

 

The ritual didn’t stop even when she arrived in the convent. In a way, it kept her sane. It was the only rule she’d be willing to continue breaking, and that weighed all too lightly on her conscience. There was no doubt that her turn to faith had been a quick one, and just as quickly, she could’ve probably turned back. She tucked those thoughts away much more quickly than her selfish way out. Her wishes were granted very soon, and Makoto fell asleep, wound tightly around the thin blanket, and mind hazy and too tired to think about anything anymore. The wet tear on her cheek soon dried and she was fast asleep.

 

———

 

The next morning came much quicker than Makoto would’ve liked. It was a warmer morning than usual, and she’d been delegated to help make bread with another nun. 

 

“You’re new around here, aren’t you?” the nun spoke up after several minutes of silence. 

 

Makoto couldn’t pinpoint any prominent features about her except that she sounded young. Just like other sister. 

 

“Not reall-“

 

“You’re still in your postulancy,” she reminded her, “I’m Helen.”

 

“...Makoto.”

 

The silence continued save for the sound of the dough slapping the wooden table, covering their habits in powder white. Makoto felt her eyes blur as she continued with the task, feeling almost cathartic and nostalgic about cooking back at home. Her eyes snapped back to reality when Helen spoke again.

 

“Shame about that sister,” Helen piped up, “I was told she was around our age.”

 

Makoto felt a tinge of distrust for a moment and then remembered that she’d signed away all her personal information when she entered into her postulancy - age included, family included. Her shoulders eased back as she stopped kneading, suddenly interested.

 

“I noticed that detective came by again,” she said with a small smile, “I don’t think he needs to but it sure is nice to see someone in civilian wear from time to time.”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“It keeps me sane, I think. I like knowing there’s still the entire world out there.”

 

Makoto shared the sentiment though she said nothing.

 

“No, I mean- why doesn’t he need to come by?” Makoto asked quizzically.

 

“Huh? The sister committed suicide. There’s a special place for those people in hell. I’m not the brightest, but I figure the detective must’ve solved this one fairly easily,” she explained, “If I should be honest… I’m quite happy with Father Ren here though.”

 

The latter statement only entered Makoto’s mind now. It was strange how easily he had slipped into the convent and made everyone feel at ease. She wasn’t particularly superstitious, but at what point would a  _ man _ help the situation?

 

“A full autopsy can take up to six weeks to prepare,” Makoto said matter-of-factly, flour dusting her pink cheeks, “What they gave us was a preliminary explanation to put our minds at ease for fear there’s really a murderer amongst us-“

 

“Sister!” Helen squeaked, “Please.”

 

Makoto stopped to look at the girl. She noticed her flushed, round face had grown red from kneading or anger. 

 

“This is a holy place,” she reminded her quietly. 

 

Makoto still had no idea what Helen could’ve been up in arms about. Her mouth opened to say something, only for her to close it once more for fear of flour escaping into it. They continued their work in silence as Makoto pondered the reality of her situation guiltily. It was awkward for a long time until the soft laughter echoed in the halls, indicating that the morning prayer would be happening soon. Though what reason would the nuns have to be so happy about it, Makoto wouldn’t know. She found herself dreading it more and more with each passing day, and the worst of it all— she hoped the detective would come. 

 

He entered her world through a portal, and through him she lived vicariously in his work. She found it intriguing but it wasn’t the type of casework she imagined dabbling in. Makoto dreamed of being a police officer: her brand of justice. She missed the days she was student council president. They were lonely ones, but it was always interesting. Exposure to people made her both hate and love them, but deep down she desired nothing but to help them. 

 

_ But you know that’s for your own personal gain? _

 

She shook her head at her sister’s words. That was in the past now. There was something awfully thrilling about the case and Makoto felt bad for chasing it as hard as she did. She pondered it a lot, spending her walks around the well, hand secretly running along the plastic caution tape when no one was looking (no one ever was for fear of the location in itself). 

 

Maybe her sister was right. Maybe she really did seek to aid others in order to feel good about herself. Bringing the late sister’s case to its true justice would only prove that she might have really been able to become a police officer. Still, the thoughts left her sadly as she thought about her postulancy nearing its six month mark. She’d have a choice. 

 

“Sister-“

 

“Hm?”

 

“You’ve been kneading that for a while,” Helen commented, her tray filled with rounded shapes as she hoisted them into the oven.

 

Makoto clamored to catch up, turning red at how her mind wandered so far. Helen dusted her hands, and gave her a cocked brow before leaving the kitchen. No doubt she’d be avoiding her now, the girl’s face turned cold. Makoto sensed complacency, but there was nothing she could do. To think she’d be able to do the work of the police and that the detective was doing anything but humoring her left her both stumped and hurt. The more involved she became with the case, it seemed as if the draw to her old life came back to haunt her. The dust from the dough flew around the kitchen, causing her to cough. 

 

At night, her hands shook from the cold and she clutched onto her rosary like it was some sanctuary for warmth. But there was nothing she could do trapped in the convent, no details of the case she could analyze and mull over, only that of a 24 hour autopsy. She wanted to believe in herself and her gut, but with each passing day, it became less and less so. The worst part was the detective, Makoto decided, as she hung up the apron against the wall— A glance at the window made her realize it had barely helped and yeast and dust had settled onto her habit— and it only made things worse now that Sae knew where she was. Makoto felt a sort of dread, like she’d been even more trapped than before. It settled in her stomach and then flared when she caught Father Ren down the hallway. 

 

“Sister Makoto,” he said wistfully and gesturing, “I can only hope your morning has been blessed as always.”

 

Makoto looked down, embarrassed at being caught in her web of negativity, and obviously drenched in flour. 

 

“I’ve had a slow start,” she said quietly, avoiding his gaze.

 

“Maybe this will help you,” he started, and Makoto felt a warm hand on her shoulder, “I’m convinced you’ll do a great job at it.”

 

Makoto looked up now, facing Ren’s immaculate face. His hands were folded together, rosary around his neck. She squinted for a second, realizing the hand on her shoulder now wasn’t his. She whipped to the right immediately, eyes meeting Akechi’s. Had she been so caught up in her thoughts that she hardly registered another person there, or did she truly wish the detective would just disappear from her life. The case made its way to the forefront of her mind, and for a second she was hopeful. 

 

“He had asked for you specifically,” Ren continued, smile growing, “And I assured him that you were a perfect choice.”

 

“What am I… doing exactly?” Makoto asked wearily. 

 

“The detective here asked that you cooperate with the case he’s investigating. Formally. He said that you were close to the late Sister,” he said, motioning the cross, “I have no doubt he’s already gone through questioning the other nuns. What’s left detective?”

 

“I’m afraid that’s classified,” Akechi said with the slightest head tilt and fake-sympathy, “Though with the convent’s cooperation, I imagine that I will have something to report very soon.” 

 

Makoto could hear him lying through his teeth, the hand on her shoulder practically melting the fabric and through her skin. Her jaw clenched, but when Ren looked to her, she nodded and complied. She felt the warmth of his smile and her shoulder relaxed when he pressed his own hand on her in passing. He muttered something about believing in her, meant only for her ears, though she couldn’t process it with what leftover seething feelings she had for Akechi. All the while, his eyes never left her and Ren. The echoes came back as Ren left the building, leaving Makoto with more questions than before, but she was compliant. She shifted, making sure she had nudged him off of touching her, and then she turned to look at him blankly. 

 

Akechi grimaced, remembering their encounter the night before. She was scowling, and extremely unhappy and the twitch at the corner of her face made it obvious that she wasn’t particularly elated to be working with him. It wasn’t like she had a choice anyways, and at this point she’d realized he probably only encountered Ren that morning just to charm him into revealing where she was. This was all planned. 

 

“The attic,” Akechi said, breaking the flow of her thoughts, “Does this building have one?” 

 

Almost instantly, Makoto pressed her fingers to her chin in thought. He was amused at how quickly her demeanor changed when met with a challenge. She was perfect. Perfectly suited to be in the police force. By his side. But she didn’t need to know that right now. 

 

“The church would. The nun’s quarters… I doubt it. I’d have to look, I’ve only been here a few times for chores,” she told him, already walking ahead down the hall. 

 

She was compliant. Perfect.

 

———

 

They walked in silence, investigating the rooms that resembled closely to a school. The layout wasn’t confusing once Akechi realized this, and he was curious if she knew too. 

 

“Did you ever finish high school?” He gauged innocently.

 

Makoto nodded, not looking at him as she walked to the next room. He idly looked around, eyeing the inset on the ceiling. 

 

“So you never went through the process of college exams because you knew you’d be a nun?” he continued asking.

 

It was a question that warranted a much longer response, and Makoto knew the man to be too dangerous. The truth would be too dangerous to reveal. 

 

“I signed up for them,” she said distractedly, shoving the dusty old boxes on the floor into a corner. 

 

The room was small, but there was a coat closet that Makoto looked to hopefully for a ladder. Akechi watched her spin around busily, wondering if she knew what she was looking for. Once the boxes that had blocked the door were removed, he watched her shoulders slump forward after realizing it was locked. Akechi stepped forward, watching her hand unwillingly leave the knob. Makoto wouldn’t be surprised if he would’ve been able to open it, it seemed as though he was always one step ahead of her in everything. 

 

“Did they reject you?” he continued his line of  _ innocent _ questioning.

 

She humored his question when she watched him struggle with the knob. 

 

“I wanted to join the police academy,” she said quietly, letting out the softest sigh. 

 

It clicked along with her words, opening in the direction towards them. Makoto attempted to step out of the way, bumping into his arm on the door. He heard her grumble something, and laughed inwardly at how much she must hate him. He pulled his arm away from the door and watched her clamor into the small space.

 

“Ren gave me the keys to this building. That knob wouldn’t have turned otherwise,” he assured her, “So what are you looking for now?”

 

Makoto wasn’t sure what he was asking about anymore. Feeling around the wall for a switch, she processed only after he pulled the string on the light above them that they weren’t in a building that was particularly modern. She exhaled again, growing tired by the second at his  _ accidental  _ one-ups. The ladder, thankfully, was in plain view. Without answering his question, she wrestled through the dirty closet for a second, curiosity getting the best of her for a moment. Nothing exciting stood out to her aside from old mops and expired cleaning supplies most likely. Makoto made a mental note to ask for replacements later. Initiative. 

 

Makoto was glad the ladder was much lighter than anticipated lest the dreaded man try to help her again. It seemed whatever skill she had left in aikido hadn’t betrayed her quite yet. Akechi watched her less-than-elegantly kick the rusted ladder open, and then pause. She glanced at him quickly, hoping secretly he’d want to go first, but the desire quickly disappeared when she caught a glimpse of the small smile plastered on his face. The length of her habit betrayed her and she bunched the bottom into one hand as she hiked up the ladder. The ceiling wasn’t particularly high, but it felt like an eternity as she climbed up, and it was even worse that the inset square wouldn’t budge. 

 

“You wouldn’t happen to have some trick up your sleeve for this, would you?” she asked, lapping up the venom from dripping in her voice. 

 

“Want me to try?” he asked in return, clearly amused. 

 

Makoto didn’t answer, her perseverance doubling. The material looked unforgiving, clearly not sanded smooth nor finished properly. Leaning down on the top platform of the ladder, she gathered the rest of her long skirt into her hand and punched upwards. The act surprised Akechi, prompting him to hold onto the ladder out of fear that she’d fall. 

 

“I’m fine, detective,” she said smoothly.

 

And the latch on the other side seemed to spring open like it must’ve many years ago. Pieces of the ceiling crumbled onto the floor beneath her and she turned to look at him. If this was merely a test to see if she could handle herself, she surely had done well, but somewhere inside of her, Makoto had a feeling there was nothing in that attic. She began to climb down, when his voice stopped her. 

 

“You’re not curious what’s up there?” He asked.

 

“I’m not part of the investigation,” she reminded him. 

 

“And you were cooperating so well. Come now-“

 

“Akechi,” her voice sounded startled, shaking ever so slightly in fear when he started to climb up, “This won’t support both of us-!”

 

“Better get in that attic then,” he said coolly. 

 

He was getting closer, and in the moment of despair, she closed her eyes and pushed upwards into the attic. She let out a small shriek when she felt his hand near her ankle, flinching out of instinct and nearly kicking him. He heard her mutter sorry over and over again, and then something he could barely make out near the end.

 

“Theresnosuchthingasghosts-“

 

Akechi had to stifle a chuckle down his throat, impressed at how long she kept up that cool facade only to lose it all in the moment; and here he thought she wasn’t superstitious. He unknowingly grew fonder of the poor girl trapped between her pride and growing rivalry with the detective and the off-chance that there were ghosts in the attic. Makoto chose the former and quick-turned to look down at him, their faces inches apart.

 

“I can’t do this-“

 

“Yes, you can,” he said softly, foot edging to the next step, “You said it yourself.”

 

“You heard that?!” she asked, voice suddenly very high. 

 

He was only a step below her now, the echoes of their voices rose into the attic, sending shivers down Makoto’s spine. She sputtered a string of incoherent sounds and he neared her once more. 

 

“Wait! Okay, okay, I’ll go!” she cried, hand reaching forward to press him away from her. 

 

She swore she saw a small pout, amused nonetheless, and then she closed her eyes. Makoto breathed out, and through closed lids, her vision suddenly turned ever-so-slightly dark. She’d count down from 10. Like she always did. 

  
  


She heard a huff. 

  
  


Step.

 

8, 7, 6-

 

Step.

 

5, 4, 3-

 

She felt a hand at her waist and then an arm. Makoto’s eyes fluttered open and she nearly screamed now that Akechi had nudged the side of his face to her back and struggled for a moment up the last step and into the attic. She threw her arms indignantly, practically knocking them over into the much-too-short ceiling of dust and cobwebs. Thankfully, Makoto somehow landed back on her feet, alive and not in the grasp of a ghost, but Akechi Goro. Somehow it didn’t seem that awful when she had the two to compare. Unfortunately for her, she’d thrown her arms around his shoulders from fear of falling as well and his arm was still wrapped securely around her. 

 

Akechi felt the poor nun tremble in his arms, and had the sight in the faint darkness not catch his full attention, and practically made his jaw drop, he would’ve thought it was particularly romantic.

 

“Oh…. fuck.”


	8. Chapter 8

The smell of dust and the mere feeling of it all around her made Makoto conjure memories of Sae’s study during periods when she would rarely come home. Dust was mostly skin cells so she found it strange that the study had been plastered with it when Sae was rarely ever home. She’d sigh and venture in, holding her breath even with the face mask tightly pressed against her nose bridge. Makoto hadn’t seen a place as dusty as Sae’s in years and she felt filthy in that attic. The shallow light from below was the only thing that lit what was in that attic, and the only reason Makoto was now aware that Akechi was wound around her. She blinked up at him, too afraid to open her mouth for fear of dust, and too afraid to let go of his neck for fear he’d drop her. 

 

In that moment, for some unexplained reason, Makoto felt like she could focus on his face for once. For fear of the space around her, she looked up at him with ease and noticed that he was indeed fairly attractive. Very fairly attractive. His lips were slightly parted and full, like he meant to say something as he always did. However, there was a look in his eyes she couldn’t deny— a look of longing, an undeniable sadness as he held her in his arms. He blinked down at her both in a tinge of surprise and desire. Had he moved any closer, she might have indulged him-

 

“Makoto-“

 

“Sister-“ she reminded gently.

 

“Someone’s been here before us,” he ignored her gently. 

 

Makoto turned her head in tandem with him slowly releasing her. She could’ve sworn he spent his time brushing his hand along her waist and then down the side of her hips— afraid to let go. Akechi felt the linger of her arms imprinted around his neck, and the static of another person touching him for the first time in years made him shiver. He was much taller than her and ducked when he stood, and had she been only a few inches taller, she would’ve probably had done so as well. Or maybe she’d do something else.

 

“Sorry, my eyes… need to adjust a little,” she said hoarsely. 

 

Akechi pulled out his phone- a swipe and a tap turned on the flashlight. 

 

Now in plain view, Makoto witnessed why Akechi made his blatant remark. Yes, the attic was dusty, but there was something remarkably clear in the corner. Makoto squinted for a moment at the stack of what appeared to be either tapes or books. There were titles along the spine written in English in words she could sort of understand. Perhaps they were forgotten bibles. 

 

“What are these? Can you read-“ she began to ask until she realized clearly now what they were. 

 

Akechi grabbed her arm and twisted her around. 

 

“What! Let go-“

 

“Makoto, stop-“

 

He pressed her against his chest, his head awkwardly planted over hers thanks to the low ceiling. She fidgeted against him and Akechi took the chance to memorize the titles. Interestingly enough, someone at the convent had a very immense collection of diaries they weren’t willing to give up just yet and had stashed it away in the disgusting attic. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized it wasn’t in any language the either of them knew too well, lest he knew she’d force them to spend the entire day in a filthy attic reading. 

 

Makoto kicked his shin, the painful act enough to get him to buckle at the knees. He let out a surprised sound but he didn’t budge in holding her still. Had it not been for the length of her skirt slowing her motions, she would’ve relished in knowing she might have bruised him up a little. With her free arm, she twisted his wrist and for a moment he released her. His movements were slower than hers but he was stronger and it was no struggle for him to catch her around the waist once more- this time, her back was planted against him and both her arms held down by his gloved hand. Makoto only realized how close his head was to her neck when she felt him nudge into the crook of her habit. 

 

“Let go of me,” she said firmly. 

 

“You’ll tamper with the evidence.”

 

“This is hardly evidence! It’s nowhere near the crime scene and-“

 

“I can’t risk you tampering with it still. I’m on the investigation and anything I find from here on out can be submitted in,” he told her. 

 

Makoto fell quiet, suddenly afraid of being suspected as the murderer given her own inability to give up something from the past. He’d find her pistol under her bed and the chambers unloaded but it would’ve been enough. She resisted and relaxed against him. 

 

“You gave up quickly,” he noted. 

 

“I have no choice,” she said quietly, “If you say it’s for the case then… I have to. They’re diaries, are they not? Perhaps they’re-“

 

She thought about his movements a moment ago. He held her down with practically no practice and she felt her years in aikido melting away. Had they been in another scenario, she’d love to have seen what he was capable of in a spar. In the end, he was one step ahead of her again. 

 

Though admittedly, she knew she got ahead of herself in hoping there’d be an implication of a murderer in those books. 

 

———

 

Makoto was indignant, but she agreed reluctantly in helping move the evidence from the attic. Ren was shocked that something of the sort had made it into the church given how strict the curfews were. He was almost disappointed. A team of investigators arrived per Akechi’s request and began to take inventory of what was in the attic. Morning and afternoon duties had been called off and all nuns would stay in their rooms until further notice, Makoto included. 

 

Makoto frowned, wanting badly to help out in anyway she could, but was equally peeved that only hours before, Ren had given her the task of helping Akechi in anyway she could. He put his hand on her shoulder, and with no words, gave her a sullen, sad look. Makoto pursed her lips and began to walk back to the convent rooms.

 

“Wait, where are you going?” Akechi asked, breaking out of his focus, “There’s still work to be done.”

 

“I think it’s best,” Ren started, smoothing his hand down Makoto’s back for good measure, “that the Sister retire for now so she won’t get in the way of your investigation.”

 

Makoto felt chills run down her spine. 

 

“I asked her,” Akechi stated. 

 

Makoto looked up at him quickly, opened her mouth to speak and decided against it. He threw her an annoyed look, his stubbornness unwilling to fade. 

 

“She won’t get in the way,” he answered to Ren, “if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 

“I’m worried about her,” Ren spoke, eyes boring into the detective’s face. 

 

“You worry too much, then,” Akechi shot back. 

 

Makoto felt the pang of bad memories back at home and remembered how she’d always handle it: hiding in her room and shutting off the noise with studying. She didn’t have that luxury here. There was never quiet. 

 

“ _ Sister _ Makoto,” came the chill of Akechi’s voice, “do what you’d like.” 

 

And that was that. The pang of bad memories turned into longing, hoping he wouldn’t leave her behind. Ren kept his hold on her shoulder a firm one. 

 

“I… I want to go,” she spoke up softly. 

 

Ren released his grip. She dare not turn back for fear of the disappointed look on his face. Instead, she faced the surprised one plastered on Akechi’s. A few steps forward, and she reached him. She could’ve sworn she saw his lips turn upwards into a smile as he turned to walk away, his hand brushing along her arm in some sort of approving way. 

 

Makoto’s heart beat fast as she hurried after him and the investigators. They dare not question the detective’s desire to enlist a nun. 

 

———

 

“The documents-“

 

“Diaries,” she corrected him. 

 

“They’re to be moved to the station for further investigation, naturally.” 

 

She turned her head now, eyes deterring from the sight of the investigators loading the mound of books into their vehicle. 

 

“There’s quite a bit of them, and I can only imagine the time it’ll take to annotate and update the case from this point on,” he continued. 

 

She cocked her head to the side now, confused. 

 

“Do you… is this a job for detectives only? If so why did you-“

 

“Your sister will be at the station,” he interrupted gently. 

 

Makoto was taken aback. Only nights ago did she find herself feeling betrayal, albeit he owed her no loyalty in the first place. She simply hoped he’d given her the decency of a normal human being and he couldn’t do even that. And here he was suddenly worried for her state and relationship with her sister. She didn’t know how to feel. Perhaps he was manipulating her with the falseness of care. Maybe it was because he felt pity for her. 

 

She didn’t know what to say. 

 

_ “Should I stay here then?”  _ she wanted to ask,  _ “But I want to go with you.”  _

 

“If you’d like, I can make copies for you and bring them tomorrow,” he suggested, calm and collected as ever.

 

“There’s no reason you’d have to do something like that for me,” she said quietly. 

 

“I asked for your help, didn’t I?” he reminded her, “It’d be no trouble on my behalf.”

 

“I dare not ask why you’re doing this for me,” she responded, “And as much as I would appreciate that… if I’m formally helping you with this case then it’d only make sense for me to come with.” 

 

She recalled Helen’s words— having laid eyes on Akechi once gave her sanity of the world beyond the convent. It made no difference to her whether or not she went or stayed for she felt no belonging anywhere. She forced herself into the role she believed she would do well in. Makoto sought her heart for once and decided. 

 

Akechi’s natural response would’ve been “suit yourself,” but honesty came easy with her suddenly. 

 

“Sae… she holds no sway over you. You are your own person, you know.”

 

He watched her long eyelashes flutter as she gaped at his response. Makoto found no words that could match the intensity of what he had just said. Her heart pounded against her chest.

 

“I’ll keep you safe,” he slipped quietly.

 

Makoto felt his kindness, something she hadn’t felt for a long while. Her hand reached up to the cross around her neck, and she gripped it tight. She wanted to believe his words. Perhaps relying on someone wouldn’t be so bad. Akechi sorely needed to do so as well. 

 

“That won’t be necessary,” she replied, smiling, “But thank you.” 

 

Akechi thought her smile was radiant. She didn’t flush even a shade deeper at his remark to keep her out of harm’s way. And then he realized how innocent she truly was. Just the idea made his loins burn and a shiver crawl up his spine. He had crossed the boundaries between their worlds by offering his help. In any other circumstance, the individual would recognize what he meant by those words. He had shown interest in someone for the first time, and for the first time he’d been so blatantly and plainly shut down. Some sense of resolve resonated within him regardless, and he aimed to try even harder next time. 

 

“Suit yourself,” he said as he usually did.

 

He turned around to face the vehicle piled high with the likely empty books. His face was warm, but he couldn’t help but feel the smallest tinge of a challenge. And so he smiled to himself.

 

“Tomorrow, then?” she reminded him.

 

He turned back to face her, her red eyes matching the sun setting behind her. 

 

“Tomorrow,” he repeated quietly.

 

Makoto noticed his slightly-parted lips again and for a brief moment, the thought of how soft they must be crept into her mind. The thought left as quick as it came. And so did he when he turned to leave for the night. 

 

She stood alone at the convent gates, watching the vehicle drive off into the distance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends, thank you so much to those of you who are _still_ leaving comments on 'Pining,' I'm so glad to know that it's still being enjoyed! Truth be told, I was having a particularly hard time with this chapter because in all honesty, I'm not great at writing mystery whatsoever and I might have thrown myself into the deep end by leaving it off at a cliffhanger just to get the last chapter out orz. 
> 
> Regardless, I hope you enjoy and anticipate more from me soon. Things should be picking up from here! 
> 
> Also to those of you who might consider _indulging_ me at all, if you have art to share of Makoto and Goro.... please, please share. 
> 
> Until next time!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> don’t follow me, you’ll end up in my arms

__Akechi could not stop thinking about the convent. He thought of the leaked, dried white paint on the walls that reminded him too much of the cheap orphanages he stayed in. The way the priest’s hand slid over the nuns’ shoulders like they were familiar drove him to anger every time as he’d often remember episodes where his caretakers would be visited by higher ups. They’d take advantage of the pretty babysitter, gently caressing her cheek or even being as so bold as to touch elsewhere. The place was cold, and it’d only get colder as time went on. He knew how the winters in the orphanages were, and how he wrapped himself so tightly with the sheet that’d never be enough, leaving him shivering and coughing throughout the night.

 

But most of all, Akechi couldn’t stop thinking about the nun. The smile had started it all, but he couldn’t deny the attraction to her much earlier than that. How could it be that only now did he realize how similar they were in the way they caged themselves in? There was something between her and Sae, and then she’d given up her entire life for the convent. Something about it didn’t seem right at all. In time, he had hoped it would unravel and he’d get to know her but he was growing impatient now. His brain was wracked with filthy fantasies, intrusive ideas that wouldn’t leave him alone. Only when he entered his lonely apartment, thrown aside his case, and nearly torn off the clothes on his body did he realize what those desires he’d continuously pushed into the back of his head did to him. 

 

He hissed from the cold air, cursing at having to get up again from bed to turn on the heater, and after a moment decided against it. He’d grown fond of the cold, and yet another thought came tumbling into his mind revolving around his obsession with the nun— perhaps it’d be like laying in bed with her. He groaned at his horrid imagination, but his body responded differently. It’d been too long since he’d even have  _ time  _ to pleasure himself, let alone do it with anyone else. Akechi turned his face to the side, the warmth of his cheek touching the cold pillow, and he glanced at the clock that read barely midnight. 

 

With a stifled sigh, he attempted to ignore the uncomfortable bulge against the waistband of his pants. He would barely muster 6 hours of sleep now if he tried to do anything this late, and thus, forced himself to go to sleep. The cold didn’t help, and he felt the goosebumps on his arm what with all the blood sitting straight in his cock. Whenever he’d turn to get comfortable, he’d hiss at the slightest bit of movement and the way his neglected member would ooze even more at the contact. It really had been a long time. 

 

Makoto tantalized his mind, her weakness showing too many times around him, allowing him to think of her as a wounded bird, a damsel in distress. But he knew it not to be true. She was strong-willed, standing up to those that went against her and staying true to her own justice until the very end. Akechi knew she was anything but weak, but her ordeal with her sister and how she forcibly repressed herself into the convent drove him insane. His savior complex kicked in, and then his desire to be loved and recognized came— she would do none of those things, forcing him to crave it even more. He longed to be complimented, to be praised. He gave in to her whims, didn’t he? He buckled underneath her, and for once he realized he was doing something for someone perhaps without an ulterior motive of self gain. What would he gain from solving a little mystery? Who could care less?

 

His hand wrapped around his cock and he cried out now. Akechi regretted it the second it happened as the nerves around the tip begged for touch. He closed his eyes, trying to pleasure himself without proper assistance and then Makoto appeared. He wasn’t surprised that his cognition would conjure her up, but he found it awful to be imagining her given she gave no signs of any interest in him, nor did she do anything that he could work with in bed. Alas, he underestimated his imagination, and given nothing to grasp at it had somehow garnered ideas he would’ve never imagined his id was capable of. 

 

He had seen those stockings underneath her long garb. He knew she hid her long legs underneath it as she’d often pick up the front of the skirt of the habit to hike up stairs and he had seen them. And then came the click of her heels— what made the convent think it was okay for her to trample around like that? The echoes they’d make every time she walked around the church must’ve drown them insane much like it did to him.

 

In his fantasy, the rows of the church were endless, and he sat far in the back- but not out of her sight. She was praying at the altar, knees to the hard floor and hands pressed tightly together with her forehead against them. He couldn’t hear what she was whispering but the movement of her lips were enough. She ended it with ‘amen’, that was for certain. First, she stood, and then brushed the length of her habit. 

 

Akechi could’ve sworn she slid them up her hips slow on purpose, and it didn’t help the fabric hugged her body so sinfully. With her hands now clasped  _ innocently _ , she turned to the aisles. The church was huge and she had a visitor. Makoto took long strides, but it seemed an eternity between each step, the sound of the heel giving a proper ring throughout the church before she’d make her next one.

 

Akechi felt horrible that this was what he was getting off to, but the way his cock ached and throbbed against his hand clearly meant just the thought of them alone in a church was doing wonders. 

 

Eternity somehow doubled. Akechi grew impatient, but he wanted to savor her. By the time Makoto had arrived to where he was sitting, swaying her hips gently and hands wrapped around her rosary like they were handcuffs, he was red in the face and thoroughly aroused. It took every ounce of him not to just pounce her right then and there but he opted to stand and face her. Much to his dismay, his hands nearly magnetized to her body as he pulled her flush against his erection, quietly stifling a moan.

 

“Did you enjoy my sermon that much?” she asked, her voice smooth and silky. 

 

He was inconsolable, and he didn’t answer. Akechi felt a coil in his cock as he took long strokes, but in his imagination, he couldn’t keep his hands off of her, grabbing at anything and everything he could. His hand could touch her waist without repercussion, and he found it not enough. There were still too many things in the way. There was no skin for him to melt into. His breathing was ragged and torn like he was dying, and he pressed his forehead against hers to calm down. The nun returned his excitement with a small giggle, her voice injecting straight into his veins as it echoed in the building. They were alone in a church with no doors. He pulled her down onto the pew, the length of those row of seats seemed to be even more uncomfortable in his imagination, though she clearly didn’t mind. 

 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he rasped, no longer certain what part of imagination or reality he was in. 

 

In the dark, Akechi was certain Makoto could’ve been there now. She smiled up at him with the same one she gave him earlier that day— innocent. He tore off her headpiece first, revealing her hair which he’d imagined was long and silky, like Sae’s. He watched her lips part and her eyelids flutter before he continued. The zipper came next and she had been so kind as to do the honors. He grew impatient and he felt his body seize up at the sight of her porcelain skin for the first time. She pulled down the sleeves from her arms and the habit sat around her hips. Her high waisted stockings peeked through around her tiny waist, and he nearly lost it. 

 

Akechi’s hands roamed freely, and obviously in his imagination she was a moaning mess, knowing not how to react to being touched in such a way. The tremble of her voice now echoing throughout the church was like music to his ears, and he worried not of anyone finding them in the midst of their vocal duet. Admittedly, the sound drove him crazy, leaving him dizzy at points where he’d touch a particularly weak or tender spot on Makoto’s body. 

 

His mouth traversed her body at times and he was anything but gentle. She cried out when he left love bites all over her neck and collar, and had she known she’d have no way of covering it, perhaps she would’ve been against it. Though in his imagination, nothing mattered but the two of them alone, and his desires manifested into the beast he withheld both in anger and self loathing. In this sequence, she was the cure for all of it.

 

He muttered her name into her skin, relishing at the touch much more than intending to extract her release. But her gasps and uneven breathing which he watched in the up and down of the plains of her stomach drove him to the edge again and again. He tore down the rest of her habit and then her bra. Makoto was innocent, but the only innocent act she could conjure now being on full display for him was just the look in her eyes. Her actions matched nothing else— her hands ran down her body and in between her legs. Had he not been between her legs, perhaps she would’ve pressed her knees together, but she spread for him. Even through the high denier of her stockings, he could see the silhouette of her mound and the black underwear hiding it. 

 

“Why have you stopped?” she asked shyly, forcing him out of his head.

 

He’d been so mesmerized that the only thing that snapped him back was her voice, and not even the throb of his cock against his pants. He leaned down, kissing her cheek, and then her jaw, making his descent agonizingly slow. Makoto grabbed his hands, and led them down her breasts for the first time, in which she responded with a hitched gasp. The pads of his fingers brushed her nipples and ignited an unfamiliar sensation. After all, the virgin beneath him had never been touched in such a way. Her mouth widened, and her eyes didn’t know whether to roll back or close in pleasure. She didn’t allow him to stay there for long, and led him down her flat stomach. He replaced his hand with his lips against the smooth skin there, eliciting the smallest laugh from her throat. Akechi had to calm down, pressing his forehead against her stomach for a moment— every wave of her voice leaving his cock pulsing. In one quick motion, he tore through the rest of her clothing- stockings included. 

 

In some perfect, awful way, she was naked now wearing only torn stockings and her fingers  _ innocently  _ reaching down between her still-clothed folds. In reality, Akechi would’ve taken his time and savored her like something sweet melting in his mouth. In his fantasy, she begged and arched her back in a way where he couldn’t resist delaying his and her orgasm any longer. In this fantasy, she accepted him inside of her with no preparation or pain, and soon, the rhythm of his body entering in and out of her matched that of his hand stroking his cock. There was nothing amazing about their first time in his mind but he sought to rectify the thought if it ever happened. 

 

It would never happen, he told himself as he gasped her name, whispered it into the night as he stroked his cock in tandem to the way he fucked her in his imagination. She could never love me, he thought, I’m incapable of being loved, and she’s like the sun. Perfectly painful in every way. But he’d get down on his knees for her anyways, confess his love all the same. What little of it he was capable of anyway.

 

Makoto gasped and moaned his name, each time he’d imagine it would be some form of twisted affection for him. He felt his chest tighten and his lower area tensing as he neared his climax. Makoto pressed her hands against his cheeks, pulling him down to her as he rocked his hips against her wetness. Through her half-lidded gaze, she somehow managed to say something. 

 

“Why… h-ngh! H-haven’t you… kissed me… yet?” she asked. 

 

He groaned, sheathing him inside of her and stopped to hold her close. He cursed that his self-depreciation managed to conjure up a scenario where she’d want to love him and to be loved by him in return. 

 

“I can’t,” he managed to say, “I haven’t asked.”

 

She let out a laugh, pulling him close to her face as if she couldn’t find any other way to be closer.

 

“You haven’t asked if you could make love to me and here you are,” she teased. 

 

Akechi was glad she didn’t say “fuck” in place of “make love.”

 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, heart swelling. 

 

She closed her eyes and leaned up to kiss him. His whole world shattered, it seemed. A kiss shared between lovers, people who appreciated and adored one another. In that moment, he felt loved. Her tongue in a dance with his pushed him close to the edge again and he picked up the pace. Her lips ghosted over his and he could taste the rhythm of her breathing and feel it pick up. She chanted a mantra of “please” over and over again interchangeable with his name. Makoto called him by his given name, and the idea nearly tore his heart in two. He could feel the scene ending as he neared his climax in real life. 

 

He cursed aloud as he edged himself to the sight of Makoto beneath him trembling and coaxing him to orgasm. Moments before she came, she pulled him down to her face once more and pressed her lips to his. Akechi flushed at the thought of an act so endearing and loving when they were literally fucking in a church. 

 

“Do you love me?” she asked him, voice a pitch too high as she breathed heavily and in tune to his weakening thrusts. 

 

“I could love you so easily,” he moaned against her lips.

 

Akechi wanted to slap his imagination for the audacity of imagining something like that, though he gave in as he neared his release. If anything, it only egged him closer. 

 

Her eyes rolled back and she whispered his name against his lips as she came. 

 

“Yes, Goro…”

 

He grew fearful of imagining their afterglow, her whispering sweet nothings and confessing her love like it was the first time. Like it was unconditional.

 

Akechi felt his body relax and then tense as he came, the evidence of his release all along his stomach and it glistened under the moonlight. The orgasm was too much, the best he’d ever know. He turned his head to rest, and a tear trailed down the side of his face. He felt his heart tighten as he entered a new domain of awfulness. There was no turning back after this, he thought to himself. He won’t be able to stop, and when he sees her in person, he’ll be too afraid to shatter her into a million pieces. But the leftover image of her smiling at him gave him hope. He didn’t desire anything of her, only wishing to be around her company more and more as each day goes by, though that could only mean something terrible for the both of them. Only now in bed with no one around to shame him can he admit he’d been visiting the convent for no reason at all. Dragging out a nearly dead case just to placate her. Nothing good would come from this, he told himself. 

 

She was meant to be a nun, and she’d always tell herself that. He ached to convince her otherwise but it wasn’t his place and albeit not even considering the fact that there was no way she held an ounce of desire of affection for him. 

 

How he longed to push her away but he didn’t have the heart to not with how Makoto depended on him for access to the station and the case at all. He had to hide his feelings, but oh, would it be the worst thing to just be honest? Would it be so bad to just believe for a moment that he could be loved? 

 

_ We’re just dancing in circles. _

 

———

 

Akechi awoke in a daze that settled quickly into shame. He would forgo his usual morning routine for a shower instead, he decided. He shifted briefly, only to find that he was, yet again, uncomfortable below the waist. He let out an audible sigh, crushing his palm against his forehead. 

 

_ What the fuck is wrong with me? _

 

A shower would do him wonders, but his hopes for a steaming hot one wouldn’t happen this time. He dare not think of the thoughts he conjured up the night before, but he could’ve sworn his damn body would have been satiated after he had masturbated to a most unfortunate scenario. Guess not.

 

He hissed at the ice-cold water hitting his back, zapping any leftover body heat he had left and began to scrub at his skin. His raging erection eventually died down, and he sighed inwardly. It’d come back to haunt him later for certain, but he just didn’t have the time to tend to his desires. Especially when the only thing he could even find remotely tantalizing nowadays was-

 

He stopped himself before the thought came. But he knew. Every fiber in his being knew. Every vein in his body that sourced blood into some sort of concoction his brain recognized as want, lust, and infatuation- it knew. Akechi couldn’t stand the thought that his ideas of romance might be skewed and he was infatuated with the nun for reasons beyond normal comprehension. But again, he didn’t have the time to sit and analyze those feelings. If he wanted to be loved, he’d simply find one of those fan girls from his high school days and make their dreams come true. 

 

He’d rather not. 

 

The thought of being near Makoto in a vicinity like a car made him shiver. Just the idea of sitting next to her made him twitch. Perhaps they’d take the train to the station today…

 

———

 

She was waiting at the gate for him when he arrived. He found it odd, and instead of his usual banter, he voiced a question. 

 

“You’re that excited to look at some case files?” he asked.

 

“Yes,” she said with a soft smile.

 

“You want my job? I can give it to you,” he joked. 

 

“No, my place is here,” she responded, “I’m just happy I can be of use now that there’s evidence-“

 

“Potential evidence,” he corrected her.

 

She moved her arm up, intending to smooth over her hair and caught herself midway through the act. He noticed.

 

“Potential evidence,” she repeated.

 

He stared at her through the bars of the gate, watching the wind blow through her bangs gently. Still, she couldn’t seem to wipe the smile from her face. He recalled the night he had came to visit her to warn her about her sister and how different their interaction had been then compared to now. In a moment of wishful thinking, he hoped it was because he was growing on her like she was to him-

 

“Ah, we should be on our way, right? I finished my chores and morning prayer already,” she said happily. 

 

“Yes,” he murmured, shaking leftover thoughts, “We’re taking the train today. I hope you don’t mind.”

 

She shook her head, the strays of her hair brushing against her face. He longed to reach between the bars and brush them from her face. But he meant close to nothing to her. He wasn’t foolish enough to think anything else. 

 

No matter what he did, the strangest ways of self deprecating himself always came naturally. If he truly wished for those feelings to be nipped at the bud, he could’ve just asked and face rejection like he always had. 

 

Makoto opened the gate and slipped herself out. 

 

“No real use for a gate when there’s no lock to it,” she commented. 

 

“They choose a life of confinement, locks are useless,” he said frowning. 

 

Makoto pondered the idea for a second with no room to be aggressive in return. It was true. She found his word choice to be interesting, pinpointing the other nuns and not her specifically. She turned to look at him, his expression unreadable though she sensed some sort of determination in his gaze. 

 

“You’re right,” she conceded, “Let’s go.”

 

He nodded. 

 

———

 

They arrived at the train station, and luckily the church was within the confines of a residential area rather than the city, allowing him to avoid the crowds. Their walk to the station had been a quiet one, though neither one of them found it awkward, admittedly. For some reason, Makoto suddenly found a sense of peace around the detective. She recalled the kindness in his words when he had offered for them to consult the evidence at her own convenience and the feeling made her warm. For the first time, she sensed there was something else that he hid beneath all his little jabs at her. Though she liked that part about him too, sometimes it just hit too close to home. 

 

“To Nagatacho,” he said.

 

“That close?” she asked in surprise, “I guess I never noticed when we were in the car.”

 

“Hardly close, it’s still a 30 minute train ride there,” he corrected her. 

 

“Ah. I never minded the time then. My commutes to school used to be much longer than 30 minutes. It’s when I got a lot of my early studying done,” she said wistfully, “Felt so long ago.”

 

“You’re in quite the sharing mood today,” he noted. 

 

“Yeah. And I don’t know why,” she said slowly. 

 

She turned to him as the train rushed past her, their gaze locked in place like some sort of strange magnetization that neither of them could place. 

 

“I think you know why,” he murmured to her, his voice drowned out by the rush of the train. 

 

But she had heard. And she sought to consider what he might have been referencing for the rest of the day. Akechi couldn’t help but wonder if it was because she was starting to feel at ease around him. 

 

“You can learn a lot about someone by how they treat others,” she said, “I’m sure you know that since you’re a detective. But with others, I find that you can’t pry them open unless you have something in common.” 

 

The train slowed to a halt and those around them rushed to get in as people standing by the door also rushed to get out. 

 

“Would you say the latter applies to us, then?” he tried to gauge.

 

“Partially. You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar,” she answered in an airy voice, walking past him to enter the train.

 

He followed after her. 

 

It’d be two stops before they had to make their transfer, and soon, Akechi found it to be the most painful three minutes of his life. For one, there were no seats and though plenty of people had offered theirs to the Sister, she had declined it feeling strangely out of place until she remembered she wore the habit. 

 

“I almost forgot,” she said, flushed, “Being around the trains gave me a rush of nostalgia that I forgot I wasn’t in high school anymore.”

 

“You say that like you haven’t been out of the convent since you’ve joined,” he said.

 

She looked towards him with a blank stare. It was true, and he soon caught on. 

 

“It’s almost like a culture shoc-!”

 

She felt the train shake before it sauntered into a halt. Makoto hadn’t been holding onto anything and had almost fallen over. Thankfully, she caught herself before doing so and she was glad she didn’t have to encounter something embarrassing like Akechi catching her. The idea made her flush. The train driver announced the station they were arriving at before the doors opened with a ‘whoosh’ sound. A flock of people rushed in and Makoto pressed her back to the doors behind her. 

 

And like in every romantic fashion, Akechi had been standing in front of her, trying his hardest to keep his distance even with the bodies that had piled in proved impossible. His gloved hand flew to prop himself against the window behind her as she stared up in horror. 

 

She wanted to make a comment about how she’d forgotten this part of riding trains, though she realized if she spoke, he had been so close that her breath was bound to touch his skin. His throat was tight and Akechi discovered that he had been holding his breath unwarranted. 

 

The operator announced that the train was leaving and of course, more passengers rushing to catch the train pile in at the last minute. Akechi had nowhere to go but forward, his body flushed against the poor nun. She had nowhere to go, and nowhere to look but either at him or off to the side. Makoto opted for the latter and her hand clutched the rail beside her until her knuckles turned white. The train began to move and sputtered, surprising most of the passengers standing up to bump and almost-fall onto one another. 

 

Akechi shut his eyes, trying to drown out the chore he had neglected this morning, and oh, how he knew it’d come back to plague him just as he had tried to avoid in the car. Only he had been pushed to an even worse occurrence what with her body literally against his. Another  _ unplanned _ quick-halt of the train and Makoto yelped, clutching onto Akechi’s arm for balance. The action surprised him and he propped the both of them up with the strength of his one hand. She looked up at him to say sorry, and he nearly lost it. 

 

Her eyelids fluttered briefly before looking away shyly, and that was more than enough. He shifted uncomfortably and she hadn’t removed her hand from his arm. Within seconds, she’d jump at the feeling of his abdomen pressed firmly against her stomach and he dreaded the conversation that would follow- if one would come at all. 

 

She apologized again, and removed her hand. Given their vicinity, she couldn’t avoid brushing it against the front of his blazer, and then down below. Akechi released an agonizing sound which startled her, and then forcibly turned away as best as he could. 

 

She muffled a “sorry,” unsure of what was exactly happening. Makoto gathered that he simply wasn’t used to being in such close vicinities like the trains for he had no reason to ride one. Akechi was internally dying trying to keep his composure and contain his growing erection, and as if it couldn’t get any worse, something overcame him. He reached out to touch her, pressing his gloved fingers gingerly on her waist. She looked up at him with questioning eyes but allowed him to touch her— she didn’t know why she allowed it. Their height difference was thankfully annulled by the edge she got from her heels and if he had leaned ever so slightly closer, his forehead could rest against hers. He tempted fate and did so— she didn’t resist him, curious of it all, the touch of another person and the closeness of body heat she’d never been exposed to. 

 

Up close, he could tell there was something he ached to discover under that habit. Her eyes were so daringly red, as if it was the first time he’d noticed. Her lips parted, and then he knew. Akechi longed to taste her innocence, and the proximity of her pressed against his body, his hand on her waist, and the other trapping her in made the desire only stronger. And best of all, she wasn’t pushing him away. He craned his neck, daringly brushing his nose against hers. Makoto did the same, curious of what he was trying to accomplish. She didn’t hate it, in fact, she very much liked what he was doing albeit she had no idea what it was. 

 

He wanted to say something. Anything that might have allowed her to permit him just a chance to get closer. He cowered away from anything particular, but he found that her name just came naturally. She appeared startled for a moment, face turning red almost immediately, as if she were breaking out of a trance- though she didn’t turn away. Makoto wanted to ask him something too.

 

_ Are you going to do it or not? _

 

She couldn’t fall for him, it’d be the end of her. And he couldn’t either, she knew, for he didn’t have the capacity to have someone love him. The idea that he could love her and she could love him was laughable.

 

And here they were, trapped by the bodies of the train that had pushed them into a corner and they’d long forgone the idea that they were just “nothing” to one another. She said his name, just for good measure. 

 

“Akechi, I-“

 

The train stopped and the people piled out, knocking them both out of their fever dream.

 

———

 

Their walk into the station was a quiet and awkward one mostly because amass the sea of men and women in suits was Makoto in her habit. Akechi held a territorial gaze whenever he’d witness a man staring a little too long. Sure she stood out, but it was undeniable that she was attractive. They approached stairs leading into the building when Akechi overheard her sigh. 

 

“You all right?” he asked. 

 

“I’ll be fine. I haven’t been around this many people in a very long time. You had the documents transferred here?” she questioned, “I told you it would be fine.”

 

“This is the other side of the station. The side people see because they’re not being dropped off by a car.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“It’s no big deal,” he said nonchalantly, “A change of scenery can be good if you’re staring at a case for too long.”

 

“As far as I’ve gathered, your colleagues haven’t spent much time on it at all, have they?” she asked frowning.

 

“As of a few days ago, it’s our case now. No one else’s. I’ve made sure of that to my  _ colleagues _ . Though they’ve questioned my motives on it when I was adamant about it being an easy one initially,” he said the last part slowly.

 

“Our case… why the sudden change?” she was curious.

 

_ Because of you.  _

 

“Because you convinced me that there might be more to it than just a suicide like I had thought. And because I don’t like losing.”

 

“Neither do I,” she said, smiling slightly. 

 

Akechi turned to her, relaxing his shoulders as he wondered where the conversation was heading. They hadn’t even gone up the steps yet and it was as if the world had slowed to a halt or time continued to wind past them. 

 

“Do you play chess?” he asked casually. 

 

“It’s good for strategy,” she commented, ignoring his question, “So I convinced you that I might be right in my hunch, yet you don’t like losing. This sounds quite contradictory to me.”

 

“You’re familiar with the territory, Sister Makoto. I’ll give you that you must know the late Sister much better than I ever will. But I still stand by my belief that it’s a simple suicide case and I’ll win in that regard in the end.”

 

“Does winning mean so much to you…?” she asked in a small voice. 

 

“Weren’t you the one who said you don’t like losing either?” he asked in return. 

 

They stared at each other with neutral expressions as tension rose in their body language. 

 

“I don’t like losing but I can admit when I’m wrong,” she responded. 

 

She watched his lips turn upwards in a small smile of triumph. He was handsome, she couldn’t deny that. 

 

“Unfortunately I can do neither. We should go.” 

 

Makoto nodded, feeling a rush of ice in the way he treated her. It was as if some sort of unspoken rivalry had occurred without her knowing and she was hardly prepared for it when in the past no one would ever come close. She wondered the same about him. 

 

She walked ahead of him, picking up the length of the garment and heading up. And just like in a trance, Akechi fell behind and watched her mystified. Every few seconds, he’d get a glance of the back of her ankles and calves, covered in the dark denier of stockings. And hell, a nun making so much damn noise in those block heels, it was like he was reeling in that fantasy of his last night in real-time. Following behind, he could grab her by the waist for she stood only a mere distance away and the interlude of his fantasy could play out just like he’d imagined it. The thought made him dizzy. 

 

And for whatever reason, he’d thought that taking the train would be a good idea to avoid tension alone, he acted without thinking and reached out to her hand. Makoto didn’t wince, only turning slowly to look at him. His hands were gloved and for some reason, she got a mysterious feeling of nostalgia. He gripped her wrist, trying so hard to imagine what her skin must feel like against his if only he weren’t wearing his gloves. She looked down to him, eyebrows raised ever so slightly in curiosity, waiting for his question to come. Makoto read his lips when he said her name but a sound never came. Her eyes widened as she watched him struggle to find something to say. 

 

She felt guilty, but mostly she felt a tinge of sadness when she wondered “who hurt you?” It was the first time she’d seen a look of distraught in him, like he had no one for so long. She returned his touch gingerly, forcing him to release her wrist so that she could slide her fingers to his own. He felt warm, and his skin was unbearably soft. She felt a tremble when he felt her touch. 

 

“Are you okay?” she asked finally.

 

He could’ve answered her question. He could’ve asked her to run away with him, or to come home with him even. Akechi could’ve asked her to turn in her habit because she had a future in how closely she held her justice to her. She had talent, and anyone could see that she was wasting it away. He had nothing to lose— at least, nothing that he hadn’t already lost. She was never his and never would be, and they were nothing to each other. But why did he feel so afraid?

 

“Sorry. Felt dizzy for a second there,” he lied. 

 

Makoto smiled. It was an indescribably, soft smile and he felt the warmth in her eyes as she stared down at him. It reminded him of the time he was fostered by the church for a very short period.

 

“Take your time,” she said softly, not letting go of his wrist.

 

_ Why are you being so nice to me? After I told your sister? I had no loyalty to you… _

 

_ I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve your kindness.  _

 

“Sorry,” he muttered again, and he pulled away from her. 

 

He climbed the rest of the steps without turning back, leaving her stunned.

 

Makoto was surprised for a slight moment and then regained her composure. Something had overcome her as well, though she could hardly describe hers. But the feeling was as if she’d claimed one of the pawns on his side of the chessboard for her own. As if piece by piece, she was slowly unraveling him and coming for the detective prince’s throne. 

 

She followed him into the station. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Makoto week!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of suicide.

The room smelled of glue and paper. There were tons of the latter but the former was nowhere to be found. The sound of machinery churned, signifying something printing, and it made Makoto cautious to enter at first. Akechi side stepped around her and into the room, setting his case on the huge table in the middle. She finally recognized the place as some sort of evidence room, but hardly one for analyzing in peace and quiet. Akechi exchanged a few words with the man at the desk, showing his identification and then was handed the stack of books that Makoto recognized from the day before. There really were a lot. He motioned to her, rounding the curve of the desk in front and through a room in the back. The door shut behind them and she was greeted with the silence she wanted.

 

“It’s kind of a mess as you can see,” he started, “I wouldn’t know how to categorize them and quite honestly this would be busy work we’d give to the trainees.”

 

“Let me see,” she said.

 

“Ah, actually. You haven’t had your fingerprints registered. You can’t actually touch the evidence.”

 

“... where do I get them registered?” she asked.

 

“You don’t,” he said, slowly taking off his gloves.

 

She watched, undeniably mesmerized as she realized this was the first time she’d seen his hands. Suddenly recalling their encounter on the steps, she blushed. His wrists really were soft, and if she wandered further, would he have allowed her to? He handed them to her gingerly, not because they were some valuable item but for some other reason. He was nonchalant about it, it seemed, but still, she felt some sort of kindness in his gesture.

 

“Some disposable ones would’ve been fine,” she assured.

 

“My prints are registered. Certified detective,” he said half-jokingly, “Shall we begin?”

 

He eyed her carefully, watching her lips turn up slightly as she slid them over her hands. She tightened her hands into fists just for good measure, and then looked to him and smiled for a moment.

 

“They’re warm,” she said softly, a small smile flickered for a moment across her face.

 

 _Oh god,_ he thought to himself, _why are you like this… so perfect._

 

“Right,” he murmured slowly, eyes never leaving hers.

 

Makoto picked up the first book in the pile and read it aloud.

 

“March 26. There’s dates for all of these entries. And definitely a woman’s handwriting,” she noted.

 

He nodded in silence, flipping through one of the books absent-mindlessly, skimming. They were silent for a long while, Akechi admittedly wasn’t particularly interested in the journals until Makoto spoke up.

 

“‘I fear for my life.’ April 14…,” she spoke up suddenly, “‘Something about the priest doesn’t seem holy, and I’m afraid to tell the other Sisters.’”

 

Akechi shifted to look at her. She had pursed her lips, hand on her chin, thinking quizzically what it could mean.

 

“She feared this priest and she felt like there was no one to turn to,” she said sadly, wondering why she hadn’t noticed sooner.

 

“April 22. ‘There’s a new nun and she’s taught me how to play chess! We try to play once before curfew but it’s becoming less possible given how strict the convent is. I think she’s lovely and she’s so smart too. To believe I might have made a friend here makes me glad I came,’” Makoto read aloud.

 

She pondered for a moment but the nun that was written didn’t seem like anyone she’d noticed before. Perhaps she’d ask around if any of the other sisters liked to play chess.

 

“‘There’s another arrival. The convent has been receiving a lot of new postulants as of late and I wonder why. This one is meek, I think. Nothing about her seems religious at all, in fact, and she’s admitted she’s never-‘“

 

Makoto stopped reading. After a moment of quiet, Akechi closed the dusty journal he was reading and turned fully to look at her.

 

“Is that all?” he asked, brow rising in suspicion.

 

“There’s… nothing interesting in this entry,” she said quickly.

 

He let out a breath and walked over to her. Makoto made a sound when he grabbed the journal from her with little effort given his stature. He kept it from her grasp as he picked up where she left off, much to her dismay.

 

“‘She’s admitted she’s never been really religious at all, but still wanted to be here. I hear from the older Sisters something happened with her family and she had nowhere else to go. Her eyes are red, and I wonder if that’s a good sign at all for receiving her though I suppose it’s not right for me to judge someone just like that. She’s obedient enough, and nice. When I told her I had a sister back home, she seemed to freeze up. I can’t imagine why and I want to know. We girls need to stick together. There’s a monster in this church.’”

 

He trailed off at the end of the entry. Closing the book shut, Akechi turned to look at her. She wouldn’t look at him in return.

 

“Sounds like she’s writing about you,” he said softly, “You’re not actually religious.”

 

Makoto shook her head vigorously.

 

“I am,” she lied to herself, “I just-“

 

“Why did you really come to the convent, Makoto?” he pressed.

 

“Akechi, the sister wrote about a monster in the convent, my religious stance is hardly-“

 

He grabbed her by the wrist. She let him. He searched her eyes hoping at one point she’d break, but he found that she was just as strong as ever. Makoto stared back in return, refusing to answer his question.

 

“If we’re going to proceed with this case,” he said lowly, “you’re going to have to tell me now that this has extended to you.”

 

“You’re blackmailing me,” she said flatly.

 

“You’re a friend of the victim. Consider it a testimony,” she refuted.

 

“It’s personal,” she said, as if that would’ve kept him away.

 

“For the record then,” he repeated, “Why did you join the convent when you’re clearly not religious?”

 

She looked up at him blankly, fully intending to avoid the question somehow. Makoto felt herself melt under his gaze, however, and she couldn’t seem to understand why she suddenly felt like he could understand.

 

“I had nowhere to go,” she said quietly, “I felt… I was useless. Sae hated that I was a burden to her and so I left.”

 

He was angry. Both at the fact that she had been pushed to the point that she felt like there was nowhere to go, and also that she had forgone her family and left it all behind for some selfish reason.

 

“You realize you’re just as selfish as Sae,” he said coldly, “You ran away from yourself.”

 

Makoto felt her heart sink at his words, knowing very well that those were here exact thoughts.

 

“I did,” she agreed, “There’s nothing I can do about it now. The bond that Sae and I have- you saw it the other week, didn’t you? There’s no coming back from that.”

 

Akechi had seen. And he’d witnessed the aftermath of Sae as well.

 

“I would’ve done anything to know my mother,” he said finally, wondering if it was a good idea to spill his past to her in the hollow room, “Pain drove her to her death and her _love_ for me couldn’t have kept her alive.”

 

He released her, and she longed to hold him close.

 

“I didn’t know,” she muttered.

 

“How could you?” he continued ruthlessly, “No one cares about orphans. Their only reaction to them is to feel bad in order to feel good knowing that they have some empathy left.”

 

Makoto but her lip, listening to him go on angrily and with no point in sight. She felt her duties as a servant to the church was to tell him that he was loved. But she would simply fall into the category of people he was describing.

 

She fell silent, at a loss for words to comfort Akechi. Her heart hurt more than usual hearing him go on and on about how lonely he must have been.

 

“She writes like someone who’s depressed, by the way,” he finally said, “Finding happiness in the small things, gasping for air. Sounds more and more like a suicide to me.”

 

He turned away, keeping the journal to himself as he walked around the table intending to pack up the rest of the dusty books.

 

“Wait, I’m not done- The suicide… how do you know?” she asked bewildered.

 

She stopped and realized why he must’ve known. He didn’t look at her as he pressed the books one by one into their own individual bags. Makoto realized that it took one to know one, and given what he’d just told her- it made sense. He really was alone.

 

“Don’t worry,” he sighed, “It was a long time ago.”

 

From his peripherals, he could’ve sworn a distinguished sad look had overcome her usual calm demeanor. She pondered the feelings of loneliness from time to time that she faced in high school, but none of it really compared to the sort that she felt now in true isolation. A part of her regretted her choice but she stuffed the thought away constantly. She pitied him.

 

Akechi let out a loud sigh again.

 

“I guess I should’ve known ‘don’t worry’ is the equivalent of ‘worry some more’ for you,” he said lowly, “If there’s something you’d like to say, you should.”

 

She was silent for a long time, holding her rosary between both palms and clasping her hands in hidden in the huge sleeves of her habit.

 

“How did you… overcome it?” Makoto asked slowly.

 

Had he ever?

 

“I suppose it’s not something you overcome ever,” he began, “It simply becomes something you no longer see necessary.”

 

She thought about the night of her father’s death and how his eyes seemed to stare back at her and how she seemed to wait forever for him to blink again. But he simply stared.

 

“I didn’t answer your question properly. I became someone that no longer saw _it_ as an option.”

 

Neither of them named suicide like an old friend, they spoke of it in intangible and vague ways like a forgotten lover or a horrendous accident. Neither of them knew that they’d embraced it much closer than they’d like to admit. For Akechi, it was in one of the last orphanages he stayed in before he turned 16. Harrowing abuse that he couldn’t believe had turned him cold and calloused until he couldn’t take it anymore. The thought sent a shiver down his spine much like the cold of the bathtub that one night- sizzling the heat of his skin away as he laid there soaking in lukewarm water, blades within reach. Another shiver and he pushed the thoughts away finally.

 

_Nothing you’d understand._

 

Makoto thought about his words as time stood still- the both of them processing their own thoughts in tandem where they’d forgotten where they both were and how closely they stood in proximity to one another. She’d made her way around the table to grab the journal from him.

 

“I don’t think… I might ever become that sort of person,” she admitted quietly, “But it’s better now. I’m in a better place now.”

 

He turned to her abruptly and in surprise, speechless. Akechi held that demeanor for a long while before he spoke.

 

“Don’t let it take over. If it’s a matter of winning or losing, don’t let it win. Ever,” he said almost angry, “Those that have wronged you don’t deserve to win.”

 

Even in the depths of her sorrow, she knew she loved Sae. They only had one another now. Makoto would never think of it as a situation where she’d want her to feel bad, yet sometimes the burden of being herself seemed to swallow her and bury her alive as she gasped for air. But just like that, she recalled her own words.

 

She didn’t like losing.

 

Makoto looked up again, her eyes no longer shaded by her habit.

 

“If there’s anything I want, it’s to prove that the Sister didn’t commit suicide,” she said, “I know it. I’d bet my life on it.”

 

He wanted her to live. For her own sake, certainly, and partially for him.

 

“Don’t make bets you can’t win. As much as I’d want you to,” he murmured, turning to face her even as he towered over.

 

“I thought you didn’t like losing?” she asked, smirking.

 

“Not when it comes to your life, Makoto,” he said quietly.

 

He said her name in such a undeniably lustful way, but she couldn’t process the emotion and thought it to be strange how her name seemed to roll off her tongue. Undeniably, she liked it, and nodded.

 

“Then help me,” she offered, “Assume that I’m not crazy.”

 

“I don’t think you’re crazy. Just that the burden of proof is on you,” he smirked.

 

“I can’t get all that without your help,” she insisted.

 

A small chuckle rumbled. Makoto looked up at him when he reached for her hands, still adorning the gloves he’d lent her. He noted how small her hands were and how each finger could barely reach the tips of the fabric. He pulled the right one off with ease- she let him- and slid his hand into it. She offered her other gloved hand, expecting him to take it as well. He grabbed her hand firmly with his now-gloved one.

 

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he said, shaking her hand.

 

She had to look away, embarrassed at the notion.

 

He noticed.

 

———

 

With her fingerprints now registered, Makoto flipped through the journals with ease and in secret after curfew. Her phone was charged now and she used it as a means to connect with the detective and as a flashlight. For the case, of course.

 

The writing burned her eyes but she read on while on her stomach in bed. The Sister spoke on and on about her observations of the convent, mostly detailing the extent of her duties and how she’d like certain chores and disliked the long hours of prayer. Makoto shared the sentiment and read on and on like she hadn’t consumed any material at all in a long while. She’d forgotten how much she loved to read.

 

Akechi almost seemed relieved she was so willing to peruse through all of the ones they deemed necessary for the case. He had given her the ones she skimmed through for her own investigation and the rest he planned to assign to some poor intern. He eyed her in a unreadable way when she couldn’t stop smiling at the task she was given.

 

Her heart sank when she neared the end of the leatherbound journal, and reading the final entry that’d seal the fate of the case.

 

_I laid eyes on the most beautiful man today. He was tall and dare I say that he was most desirable. I feel giddy just writing this. The older Sisters won’t tell me who he is and I don’t know why. It’s killing me, and I have to know. Something about him just makes him feel as if he floats on air. I’ve got this feeling I won’t seem him ever again especially since curfews are so early. I have to see him. Talk to him at least. He’s a priest so he’d at least entertain talking to another postulant. He holed himself in one of the studies for the past few hours and he’ll likely be gone by tomorrow. I have to see him. More to report tonight when I can get these butterflies out of my stomach._

 

It was the night of the murder.

 

———

 

The convent had altar boys come along with their mentors, though the priests for the most part were much older. Makoto ruled out priests for the time being. Someone that would hole themselves up in the studies could be nearly anyone and the fact that the man she’d gone to see matched up to the fact that the nuns rarely had time to themselves to go and _read._ Still, she couldn’t necessarily say that the Sister met with her terrible fate with the man in the study when it could’ve easily been along the way there. Perhaps she’d forgotten to fill the entry later and the actual murder occurred after the unnamed encounter.

 

Or perhaps the encounter had gone so poorly that it was enough to commit suicide over? Makoto ruled that out for now willingly.

 

_Slam!_

 

The noise woke Makoto up. Suddenly the morning sun made her dizzy and unbearably sleepy. The thoughts running rampant the night before after she’d read the final entry kept her up late into the night, infusing her with both intrigue and fear.

 

A man both beautiful and desirable, she pondered.

 

Makoto couldn’t pinpoint what the man might have looked like seeing as all people have different tastes. For a moment, she considered who might have taken her breath away just as described. Akechi came to the forefront of her mind, and a painfully needy sound erupted. She clasped a hand over her mouth at the mere thought.

 

Certainly he was attractive, but desirable was something she hadn’t considered. She searched her feelings and remembered how her heart palpitated at the press of his forehead against her own. The thought to dare him to kiss her had definitely crossed her mind at the time but she’d thought nothing of it until now. What would’ve happened if he had? If they were alone?

 

Makoto thought a little longer and knew her body would’ve gravitated her to kiss him. An unknown feeling rose through her legs and sat willingly at her core as she fantasized about the idea. She let the idea consume her some more. He had no way of doing it, but she wanted those gloves to tug and wrestle with her habit as he pressed his lips hard against hers until her head met the window of the train.

 

Makoto froze. She couldn’t.

 

She followed the echo of the sound until she found one of the nuns bent over, seemingly off to the corner on her own. A chessboard sat in front of her and Makoto’s heart pounded suddenly.

 

_Slam!_

 

The nun was playing alone, and the sound made Makoto jump. She turned around to face the sound and the nun’s eyes grew wide in horror.

 

“Sorry! You shouldn’t have snuck up on me like that,” the nun half-scolded.

 

“No, I’m sorry I uh… followed the sound,” Makoto said, “Sorry but, are you…”

 

“Allowed to do this? Yes.”

 

Makoto blushed as she felt her old Class President duties creep up on her.

 

“Actually I was wondering if you’d play against me,” Makoto suggested shyly, “I recognized the sound of the um…”

 

“Pieces.”

 

“Yes! I used to play all the time and-“

 

“I’ll teach you.”

 

“...T-thank you.”

 

The nun was still as she waited for Makoto to take her cue to sit across from her. She noted the nun wore her habit just like she did- bangs too short to fully cover with the cap and they’d worn exposed. The girl had darker hair.

 

“I’m familiar with the game, by the way,” Makoto said embarrassed, “It’s just been a while.”

 

“Do you remember the movements of your pieces?” the nun inquired.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then that’s all you’ll need.”

 

The nun was straight to the point and dry but Makoto liked it. She reminded her of Akechi.

 

She made her first move. Makoto followed.

 

“How often do you play at the convent like this? Especially out in the open,” Makoto asked.

 

The nun was silent until she made her next turn.

 

“Not as much as I’d like to,” she answered vaguely.

 

Makoto kept her questions open ended but she suddenly felt that secretly investigating the nun was going to be much harder than she thought.

 

Makoto made her turn, and the nun reacted almost instantly, taking her white pawn to her side now.

 

“Do you usually play with the other Sisters or by yourself?” Makoto pressed.

 

“Alone.”

 

She took another one of Makoto’s pawns.

 

“I suppose chess is kind of a distraction,” she commented, hoping the nun wouldn’t catch onto the interrogation.

 

“Hardly if you’re doing your duties to God,” the nun said coolly.

 

“The convent is strict though,” Makoto said.

 

“Not as strict as the rules of chess,” the nun mused.

 

Makoto pondered quietly, half-heartedly playing the game. She took one of her black pawns and moved forward.

 

“Heh, you play so naturally. I’m surprised you haven’t encountered me earlier,” the nun chuckled lowly.

 

“I haven’t been here for long,” Makoto admitted, “I’ve spent most of the times learning the duties and prayers.”

 

“You mean the time-wasters?” the nun asked.

 

Makoto stammered, watching one of her knights get removed from her side.

 

“Just kidding. But I hate chores. Just do them once and never dirty the place ever again, I say.”

 

The nun took one of her rooks.

 

Makoto took one of her knights.

 

“Prayer is important,” Makoto said quietly.

 

“Only if you have to convince yourself everyday to believe,” the nun countered.

 

Makoto watched her smirk as she inched closer to her side of the board.

 

“It must be hard getting practice like this all the time playing against yourself,” Makoto continued.

 

“I have others,” the nun said casually.

 

“Opponents?”

 

“Sometimes Ren will play.”

 

Makoto froze. The casual nature of the nun already struck her as weird but calling the priest only by his first name was even more odd.

 

“I’ve played with a few of the sisters,” she said afterwards.

 

“Anyone particularly good?” Makoto asked.

 

The nun snorted.

 

“Hardly. I’ve had to teach all of them how to play. It’s like they were holed up here since they were born,” the nun said.

 

“Are you a postulant as well…?”

 

The nun pounced on Makoto’s bishop.

 

“I’ve been here my whole life. Not here particularly. Everywhere. The churches,” she said absently.

 

“Certainly someone’s bound to have liked the game to keep coming back,” Makoto suggested.

 

“Do you like it? You’re losing pretty badly,” the nun prodded.

 

“Wh- hardly! I still have my-“

 

Checkmate.

 

“You moved your queen,” she sighed, “You were more fun than the others but still not great.”

 

Makoto nodded, disappointed she hadn’t gotten through her interrogation.

 

“I think I might be better at shogi,” Makoto said slowly.

 

She watched the nun’s eyes light up at the word.

 

“I’m the best at shogi,” the nun said lowly.

 

Makoto grinned.

 

“I doubt that.”

 

“I can prove it.”

 

“Too bad there’s no shogi board.”

 

The nun was quiet for a moment.

 

“I’ll find a way to obtain one.”

 

Makoto watched the nun get up, leaving the board behind her as if she’d completely lost interest in the game.

 

“W-Wait, you’re going to find one now?!”

 

“It’s time for afternoon prayer, Sister Makoto,” the girl said pleasantly.

 

Makoto blinked up at her.

 

“I’m sorry. Like I said, I’m still a postulant. What’s your name?”

 

“Hifumi.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos, I’m overwhelmed by your support and intrigue for the story. I’ll try to get back to you if I can but I figured I’d convert that energy into writing more quickly for you all.

Akechi’s body was wracked in pain when he entered his apartment. He agreed to meet Makoto again in a week and gave her his number for good measure. She told him she no way of contacting him but he assured her it’d be for emergencies. He didn’t trust Ren around her if there really was a murderer in the convent. She’d be safe with him. He couldn’t convince her to, however. He didn’t have the right. 

 

He slumped onto the couch, fingers massaging the back of his neck and then his temples. Akechi hasn’t felt this tired in ages even though he could usually bounce back with little repercussion from a few hours of sleep. He dragged himself to shower at the very least, fearing how his body might betray him again tonight. He didn’t like to depend on pills but they were a requirement now if he was expecting to go to sleep. 

 

Settling in bed, he sighed.

 

_ Don’t think about her, don’t think about her, just don’t- _

 

30 minutes, he begged his body. Just 30 minutes and the medicine will kick in and he’ll be dead asleep. The fantasy had plagued him all day, looping in the back of his mind while he kept an eye on her at the station. She’d press her hand to her chin when she was deep in thought, tilting her head down as she pondered. He found the gesture interesting since he’d often catch himself doing the same. She really was… 

 

Exhilarating? Unique? Different, for certain. Plain for the most part, but extremely capable for some reason. She was a Niijima, so wired with independence and wit. Makoto never ceased to impress him especially when it came to how secretive she could be. For the first time now, he’d realized that perhaps the reason she’d been so interested in his attempts at  _ suicide _ was for her own personal discovery. The nature of her questions led him to realize, and soon he came to the conclusion they weren’t particularly that different. Their ideologies might be different but they could be one another’s foil in this terrible fairy tale of his.

 

_ Oh, Makoto. What are you doing to me? _

 

His eyes were heavy and he greeted sleep with open arms.

 

———

 

Akechi was shivering, the cold of the bench on his back made him realize he was sitting in a pool of fog that’d made its way into the church. The people around him didn’t seem to care, heads buried in deep prayer. The resonating sound of Makoto’s voice finishing up the passage in the Bible made him realize he was in a dream-a lucid one. What further confirmed it was when she finished, she closed the book firmly and instantly gazed at him. Her lips curled into a clearly seductive and flirtatious nature and he couldn’t help but match it in a similar fashion almost instantly. His eyes narrowed in lust when she made her way down the aisles. The faces of those around him turned to look at her, igniting a jealous fit within him that seemingly doubled in his dreams- he must have really tucked away those feelings consciously. 

 

“How did you like my sermon this time?” she asked when she arrived by his row, words smooth and velvety. 

 

“Lovely,” he said nonchalantly, caring very little for the words and liking very much the woman reciting them, “I’d like to speak with you in private about them if you would be so kind.”

 

“Certainly,” she responded happily, “I would never turn down a believer’s desire to learn more about the word of God.” 

 

All eyes were on them, listening in on their intimate conversation, hearing the lust drip from each word. He stood immediately, towering a head over her even in those heels he knew she’d be wearing so faithfully, and ushered her away. The walk was a long one and Akechi ensured his arm was wrapped around the nun’s waist securely as they walked down the aisle like in some ceremony. They’d escaped the church and into more fog. Makoto made sure to slip out of his grasp and out of sight, her voice in a high-pitched giggle. 

 

Akechi rolled his eyes, knowing he’d play her game anyways. He’d practically memorized the walk towards the convent from the church. Her heels made no sound against the dirt path but the moment she entered the convent, the sound of them echoed once more and he followed it like he’d been in a trance. He shut the door behind him, admiring the long hallway for a mere second before his attention fell on the woman in front of him per usual. She had turned away, but tilted her face to smile secretively before she carefully unbuttoned parts of her habit. His heart picked up its pace in a way where he was certain he’d have a heart attack any moment now. The white collar went first and she started to walk away. He followed, mesmerized.

 

Makoto shimmied out of the long, black garb, and he watched it slide down the length of her body and pool on the floor with a soft noise as she made her way down the hall. His eyes painted up her figure, admiring the length of the waist-high stockings on her legs and the black slip she’d worn underneath that hugged her hips possessively. She picked up the pace, laughing quietly as she turned the corner in what was once an endless hallway. Akechi followed desperately. 

 

He finally trapped her in what appeared to be an expansively luxurious bedroom that belonged anywhere but in that shoddy convent. The sheets on the bed were silk, the floors in a pattern of expensive granite, and Makoto was the priceless centerpiece. She’d made herself comfortable on the bed, her weight dipping into the folds of the silk as she sat there flipping through the pages of the Bible she’d been carrying, waiting.

 

“We’re alone now. Are you ready for your lesson?” she asked lowly. 

 

“I’m familiar with everything you might have thought to teach me,” he admitted, walking towards her, “There’s something I cannot place.”

 

“Oh?” she asked in obvious unsurprise, “What was it that you wished to speak with me about? It seemed so  _ urgent.” _

 

Akechi felt his self restraint tug ever so slightly as he watched her words roll off her velvet tongue. Her skin was pale in that tight, black shift- her arms holding the Bible close to her chest, clearly pressed together in a tantalizing way to make it appear more prominently than she already was. She’d crossed her legs, heels still on even at the edge of the bed, and the material of her shift inched higher and higher up her body as she swayed slightly under his gaze.

 

“I have this hunch,” he began slowly, his hand reaching for her knee tentatively, “that the feelings I have for you are quite similar to the ones you hold for the church.” 

 

He was dreaming, and his dream-self was crazy. 

 

“You may be right if the feeling you’re referring to is complete devotion,” she said innocently, allowing him to trace patterns into her stockings. 

 

“Devotion,” he repeated, nodding in agreement, “That sounds familiar. What else?”

 

“I’d do anything for them,” she said, clearly no longer talking about just the church, “A longing to see more. To know more. An insatiable hunger. Are these the feelings you speak of, Goro?” 

 

Yes, he was insane. He leaned in close to her, hand supporting himself on the bed as the other traced up her arm. Her eyes flicked down to watch him, and then back up to look into his sultry gaze as he approached her, crawling onto the bed with her.

 

“Oh, I wouldn’t misunderstand,” he said, voice rising, “This is all merely hypothetical.” 

 

He claimed her lips, and she kissed back in return curiously. He was burning from the inside out and if he hadn’t pulled away he would’ve most likely lost it and flipped her over and been done with it within minutes. Akechi opted to savor her as painful as it were. 

 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to do that,” she said, when he pulled away from their kiss, lips red and cheeks rosy.

 

“Then why didn’t you stop me?” he asked in equal innocence. 

 

“It’s not God’s job to govern his creations,” she said impishly, “If it were, we’d be perfect and without fault.”

 

“And are you God in this case?” he asked, pulling at the straps of her shift. 

 

“I’m only a mere reminder of His will,” she breathed when he ghosted his lips along her jaw before claiming it in the softest kiss.

 

“May I beg for forgiveness?” he inquired huskily, hand on the side of her neck, tilting her for better access.

 

“A confession?” Makoto asked delightedly.

 

“Whatever you want,” he whispered, laying her down and pressing her legs apart with his knee, “Whatever you need.” 

 

He waited for her response, teetering close to impatience. Her red eyes blinked up at him, pondering his words briefly. 

 

“I believe,” she said quietly, smiling, “just this once, God would be willing to grant me His good graces and allow me to bear the burden of your sins.”

 

“Good,” he said huskily, and began to devour her roughly. 

 

He left no part of her skin unmarked or unscathed. He sought the heat of her body in that freezing room and she returned with equal fervor. After all, he was a sinner. 

 

“I wanted to fuck you the moment I laid eyes on you,” he groaned, fingers digging into any flesh he could get a hold of, “For that, I’m  _ deeply _ sorry, Sister.” 

 

Makoto threw her head back when his mouth claimed the base of her neck, leaving pink and purple in the aftermath of hard sucking. She made an approving noise to show he’d been forgiven for that particular sin and that he should continue. 

 

“I led you to believe that there might be more to that case but there’s a likely chance there isn’t, Sister. I just wanted to see you lose and become mine,” he said while he slipped her out of her shift and kissed down the plane of her stomach, “I beg your forgiveness for that.” 

 

“Hmmm, most regrettable, but you are forgiven,” she moaned when he tugged down her stockings roughly, “Please, continue.”

 

“I thought about you the other night,” he muttered against her skin, “I thought about taking you in the church on those benches. Fuck, I’ve never come so hard. Sister, would you forgive me for that?”

 

“O-oh, was it anything like this?” she asked in a high-pitched voice, arching her back when he dipped himself into her wet folds with his tongue. 

 

“No,” he responded quickly, lapping at her clit and digging his fingers into her hips.

 

“What you’re doing right now. I-it’s filthy! I hope you’re going to confess this as well,” she sighed when he sucked and nipped gently, her fingers digging into his hair. 

 

Akechi devoured her, and Makoto shifted only near the end when she felt the inside of her core nearly explode. He could feel it with the way her cunt throbbed against his mouth. He growled when she finally came, oozing honey onto his tongue which he so graciously lapped up. His first order of business was to kiss her, leaving her essence a secret between them both. 

 

“Ohh, dear God,” she said, out of breath, “You’ve sinned more than I could’ve ever imagined. Will I ever find a proper punishment for you?”

 

“Bend over,” he said simply. 

 

One side of her lips curled upwards before she mischievously went on all fours and sank forward on her arms. Akechi roamed her body, prodding his aching erection on the curve of her arse, fingers trailing to undo her bra. 

 

“You’ve given me enough punishment in real life as is,” he sighed, fingers twisting her nipple.

 

“A-ah! How?!” she cried, listening to him undo the buttons of his now-wrinkled shirt. 

 

“Do I really need to explain what you do to me when I’m literally dreaming about fucking you senseless?” he asked, hissing quietly when his cock could finally press against the smoothness of her skin. 

 

“I’ve done nothing wrong!” she huffed, bracing herself for his entry. 

 

“Makoto, you do nothing but torture me with your existence,” he growled, fingers rubbing her clit gingerly, tracing her dripping folds, “Do you know how much I burn when I’m around you? If I could show you the ache I feel, maybe you’d be more sympathetic.”

 

“W-who said… I don’t feel the same way? Those feelings you have for me, have you ever considered if I returned them?” she asked feverishly, crying out when he finally reached for her headpiece, revealing her in the glory that God had created her. 

 

“Like I said,” he groaned, sliding the tip into her slowly, “This is all merely hypothetical, darling.” 

 

He entered her in one motion, feeling resistance from her body and the burn in his core finally spread throughout his veins. Makoto released a string of incoherent cries, likely from the pain and little from pleasure. The relief he felt was indescribable once he inched forward, his stomach firmly against her. 

 

“Oh, you fucking minx. You are perfect,” he whispered into her ear, planting kisses down her back. 

 

He began to move, the denial of friction no longer something he could coherently bear. His motions were slow but hard, ramming inside of her with little remorse. She’d whine when he didn’t move, and whimper when he went too fast. The push and pull was so painfully erotic especially when he was so close to coming with each thrust.

 

“I would’ve stolen you away,” he moaned, listening to Makoto cry out beneath him, “All you had to do was ask. I would’ve made you understand that nothing mattered once I’m buried inside you.” 

 

“Yes,” she breathed, “I know that now-ngh!”

 

“Do you understand?” he asked for good measure, gripping her hips tightly. 

 

“Yes, yes,” she chanted, voice muffled as she neared her orgasm, “More. Tell me more.” 

 

“You’ve ruined me,” he groaned lowly, “Makoto… I’m-!”

 

She let out a cry, dizzy from the act and head spinning when he pounded into her relentlessly. In some perfect way, their orgasms lined up and she came screaming his name. He rutted inside of her, and she collapsed finally, falling forward and trembling in either pain or desire. Akechi followed suit, curling next to her to envelop her naked body against his own. 

 

“I don’t want to wake up,” he admitted sadly, planting small, reassuring kisses against her cheek. 

 

Makoto inched closer, huddled into a ball as he held her. The room suddenly felt warm, dim even. The fog had left and in its wake there was the leftover heat of the setting sun and the warmth of their afterglow. She’d nested close to him, holding him tightly like he was her own to keep. 

 

“You have to,” she murmured sleepily, nuzzling his neck, “I’ve forgiven you after all. Wasn’t that what you came for?”

 

“Of course not,” he sighed, tightening his hold on her suddenly fearful, “It’s because I’ll never have you once I wake up.”

 

“Hmm, then let’s sleep a while longer,” she whispered against his chest, “Let’s sleep forever.”

 

“Makoto-“

 

The warmth in his arms disappeared and he woke up. 

 

———

 

Akechi called out of work that day. No one seemed to care. He’d woken in a frenzy of cold sweat and a raging hard-on no doubt thanks to his wet dream. He cursed his superego for restraining him, formally voicing that he’d meet up with the nun again in a week rather than showing up at his leisure like he had been. He’d be paying her visits everyday if he hadn’t made that promise. It was only day 2 and clearly just  _ willing  _ himself to not think about her caused his mind to rip him apart from all corners of his psyche. 

 

The coffee he’d made had gone cold as he sat there dazing off. No work would be done on that case since he’d given the reins to Makoto to deal with. Maybe it would’ve been a good idea to pay her a visit. Just to see how she was coming along-

 

He shook his head, sulking onto the cold marble of his counter as he leaned forward on the bar chair. He had left his raging boner from earlier to suffer, punishing himself for even  _ dreaming  _ of the idea that he could bed Makoto. But it wasn’t like he hadn’t already felt shame from moaning out her name nights earlier and he had been fully conscious then of what he was doing. Akechi had really outdone himself this time. If only, he thought, they’d met a few year earlier- in school perhaps. He likely wouldn’t have stopped pestering her, following her around and bantering with her any chance he got. He would’ve confessed the moment he realized his feelings and she wouldn’t have the opportunity to slip from his grasp. But this was in some alternate universe that didn’t exist. 

 

Just get over it, he told himself, just get over her. 

 

But she was so lovely. And he  _ hated  _ losing.

 

———

 

Makoto hadn’t realized it, but she had been mentally counting down the minutes it took for her to complete her tasks alongside morning prayer, setting new goals for herself to finish her chores faster than ever. Only when she’d arrived at the gates of the convent hours before noon did she realize that she’d been waiting for Akechi to come. She felt fear overcome her and embarrassment quickly settled uncomfortably in her stomach as she walked away, back to the sleeping quarters. The other nuns were happily chugging away at their own chores, slow and inefficient since they’d be bored until afternoon prayer anyways and they’d fill their time retreading the same passages from the same book everyday for the rest of their lives anyways.

 

Makoto wanted to slap herself, for the monologue of boredom came from her true feelings of the church. The time she’d spent with Akechi was one thing, but being outside of the convent felt similar to the days Sae used to insist that they’d do something fun together after she’d score the highest on her exams. She thought of those memories fondly and the perspective gave her more reason to miss studying. Only now, there was no room for any of that and she’d sorely missed life in itself. 

 

Would God be upset if she took a nap? She shrugged and decided she would. Stripping herself of the headpiece and collar, she locked the door and slipped into bed. She hadn’t been in her room in the late mornings ever, and only now realized her window faced the warmth of the sun. Turning her back, she felt the rays beam against her and she let out a soft sigh as she settled comfortably in the hard bed. 

 

Makoto eyed the journal by her bedside, suddenly aware she’d forgotten to tuck that away with her other  _ valuables _ . She quickly grabbed it, intending to hide it until shamefully. The corners of the book were crisp and unused- obviously the last journal the Sister must’ve kept before she was murdered. Makoto had reread the same entry over and over again like it was a note from a crush, trying hard to understand what the meaning of it was and if any hints lived in those words.

 

Unfortunately, the Sister’s entries were mere exposition of the events as they occurred to her. While they’d been dated, people came and went from the convent so often it’d be impossible to indicate if the person the Sister had gone to see was one of the priests at the church that came on Sundays or one in passing. Makoto thought about Akechi once more- he admitted she was familiar with the context of the church but having someone to bounce the ideas off of was both helpful and refreshing. 

 

She felt a small pain in her cheeks, realizing it’d been from smiling as she thought about the way Akechi made her roll her eyes both in annoyance and impressiveness. He’d asked her so much of what her life was like before the convent but she’d been dying to know more about him as well. Perhaps after the case. After they’d catch the culprit.

 

But then he’d have no reason to come. 

 

Makoto squeezed the rosary into her palm, the blunt edges of the cross causing no pain. Her other hand traced the outline of the journal sitting on her pillow as she mulled the thoughts over. 

 

If the case were to be solved, she’d be happy. There’d be justice for the late Sister, everyone would feel safer and at ease with the murderer behind bars. And life would continue as it once were a few weeks ago before this commotion. She’d complete her postulancy, swear in for the rest of her life, and she’d be completely devoted to God- where she belonged. 

 

And then she’d never see the detective again. 

 

Makoto thought some more, realizing the ideas of uneasiness were simply ones she’d projected onto the other nuns. Even Father Ren who had showed up initially to help put things back in order and help run the day to day was particularly relaxed. Perhaps it was only in her mind that life went on as if nothing happened already for these people and she was the only one wrapped up in this case. It were as if she’d not only inevitably isolated herself like she always had, and that this simple justice for someone she wasn’t even particularly close to had given new meaning to the day-to-day. 

 

The number Akechi had left her was hidden as a bookmark for that particular page. She pulled out the scrap of paper, uneven and raw around the edges. Holding it high in the light, she could now see the neat handwriting belonging to the detective written in what she’d previously thought was black ink. He’d written his full name in blue ink and his number below it. There were no customized message below it like “call me anytime” or “feel free to text me.” He was business per usual. 

 

Her eyes traced the way he wrote his name, darker spots for where he’d press into the paper and lighter ones for when he’d lift up and move to the next stroke. It was something he’d given her and she felt warm thinking about the mere handwriting of it. Makoto wondered what it would be like to receive a letter from him. For once, in the safety and isolation of her room where no one would’ve noticed that she’d run away to, she allowed herself to thinking about Akechi more freely. 

 

_ If this case were to be solved, I would be happy.  _

 

_ If it were to be. _

 

She felt bad, feeling remorse for the late Sister that she’d even consider slowing down the investigation just to spend more time with Akechi and taste the outside world. That wasn’t her justice. She wouldn’t let it end that way. 

 

But oh, how she longed for something more than what she’d traded her life for. Lying for a long moment, Makoto jumped out of bed and scrambled to grab the box hiding under it. She’d pulled the dusty phone out of its hiding place and searched around for an outlet. Unplugging the lamp, she plugged it in to charge. She waited patiently and hopefully that the cord would work. The screen lit up and she was elated. 

 

Three bars signified service, and that Sae had continued paying for her phone plan. Makoto felt her heart tug, wondering if her sister hadn’t cut her out in hopes that she’d one day return.

 

Makoto swiped to her message box like second nature.

 

———

 

Akechi took the liberty of his day off to do absolutely nothing but sulk in bed. He watched the hours tick by slowly as if either waiting for the next day to come or hoping he’d grow bored and tired enough that  _ she  _ would come visit him again in his dreams. When he fantasized for too long, and the desire grew too unbearable, he’d stroke himself to release. He had to. The tissues of his shame piled in view in the garbage bin by his bedside. He groaned, turning over. When this was all over, he’d consider getting laid maybe. 

 

He felt groggy and he hated being unproductive. If there was anything he enjoyed about being a detective, it was that he had some semblance of control all the time even if it was slow at times. He found that most of the hold up were logistics that were left to the ineffectiveness of his colleagues or those he’d work with on the cases themselves. But for some reason, he was extremely patient, knowing the push and pull of moving forward and being set back were all part of the game. You win some pieces and lose others. 

 

He heard the sound of vibration against the dark wood of his nightstand, and the tempo of the vibration notified him of an incoming message. Akechi had called in and was approved for it, and he really hoped they weren’t planning to call him in anyways. The message was a plain one from a number outside of his contacts. The area code was the same as his, however. He squinted as he wondered who the sender was. 

 

_?: Hi, it’s me. I think I found something that might help us with the case.  _

  
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: end of the chapter includes a rape scenario. Please read at your own discretion.

_ A: you’ll have to remind me again of who you are, sorry. _

 

_ M: Niijima Makoto. _

 

Makoto put her surname there in the event that he’d be confused. He was so popular after all. 

 

Akechi felt his heart beating on the other end, pounding as he imagined all the scenarios of how she’d gotten a hold of a cell phone, and wondering if she had escaped the convent or something wild. 

 

_ M: I brought my phone with me when I went to the convent. You can turn me in if you’d like. _

 

She wrote when he didn’t nt reply for several minutes, reeling in sudden realization that Niijima Makoto was suddenly texting him. 

 

_ A: No, you caught me off guard was all. Number I didn’t recognize, and I took the day off. _

 

_ M: You took the day off? I suppose you don’t want me sending you stuff for the case then. We can discuss it when I see you in a week. _

 

He rushed to respond. Knowing her, she’d turn off that phone and go confess the sin or something.

 

_ A: Wait, it’s fine. We can discuss it now. _

 

He had to get her to stay, talk to him, anything. 

 

_ M: is there some sort of… confidentiality in discussing like this? Maybe we should meet up? _

 

Oh god, anything but that. Yes, that, but not today of all day. The thoughts went rampant and his erection ached when he thought about seeing her after he’d put those devilish thoughts to rest. 

 

_ A: this isn’t some ploy to get me to come into work on my day off is it? I worked very hard to convince them to let me. _

 

Very hard.

 

_ M: sorry, I sometimes forget my place. I do think this is something we might need to talk about in person though. It can wait. _

 

Akechi likely looked like any other salaryman who’d kill for a day off where he didn’t have to be worrying about work, and he didn’t want to come off as such even if did want to see her. In some wicked way, he wanted to test his limits and put a barrier between them. It’d been only a day and a half and he was already dying without the physical interaction.  _ The option to push her against a wall. _

 

He thought about not responding, leaving it as that. Makoto but her lip, laying on her side as she waited for his response. She wanted him to come. His company always seemed to make her happy even if he was a constant annoyance, and it would be nice to talk about the case after she’d encountered something worthwhile. Yes. The case. 

 

_ It can’t wait. I can’t wait,  _ she thought impatiently. 

 

_ M: sorry. I’m going to call in a favor that you don’t owe me. I promise I’ll pay you back somehow.  _

 

Akechi raised his brow. Grinning widely, he put his phone face down on the bed. She was resigning the upper hand to him, and he was dying thinking of all the little favors they’d owe one another at the end of all this. He knew he’d one-up her for certain, and knowing she couldn’t bear to lose, it would be a cycle. He knew this for certain, but he couldn’t stand to take advantage of it. She’d inevitably feel as such regardless though. It was barely noon, and it seemed as if he was going to relinquish his day off in the end to her. Typical. 

 

_ A: I really, really don’t think this is a good idea. _

 

_ M: what if I told you I could make it worth your while. _

 

The little ideas suddenly turned the cogs in his dirty mind, even knowing very well that she was talking about the evidence she had found. He knew there wasn’t anything amazing like an entry where she listed the exact details of the murderer as she was killed- so how would Makoto come up with something that she knew would be worth it to him. 

 

_ A: if it’s something unrelated to the case then I’d consider it. Knowing you, something tells me it’s not. _

 

_ M: then you don’t really know me at all. _

 

Just the banter alone over text was enough for him. They didn’t have all day and he was certain she wasn’t going to give up at any point. The ball was in his court. 

 

_ A: What do you have in mind? _

 

_ M: What would you want?  _

 

_ You, _ he groaned inwardly. 

 

Why was she like this? Makoto had no idea what he would have wanted. Surely he wasn’t interested in anything she could offer- her deepest darkest secrets, the two possessions under her bed- what else did she have? She chewed on her lip when he didn’t respond almost immediately with a list of demands or intern work. 

 

Akechi sighed, knowing that divulging anything he could remotely have wanted would be a dead giveaway. Was it weird to ask for a kiss? Or a date? Maybe they could skip right to the part where she’d slap him and he knew instantly that he was in love with her. He pulled himself out of bed, groaning as he pulled on his sweater vest. Pulling his unmade hair into a small ponytail, he sauntered into the kitchen to make himself a fresh pot of coffee after dumping the cold pot from earlier out. He was going to really regret this somehow.

 

———

 

Akechi had stopped responding and Makoto sulked. She was no longer sleepy, the warmth of her back now feeling uncomfortable. She powered off her phone and slipped it into the shoebox along with the neatly-wrapped gun. The items went under her bed and unheard of, erased from her memory but sat waiting in her conscience. She slipped on her headpiece once more and snuck out of her room. Thankfully no one was waiting in the hall to confront her and she made her way back in time for afternoon prayer. 

 

As she walked out of the building, her heart stopped at the sight near the gate. Even from far away, something about the demeanor of the man waiting there was familiar and within seconds she’d realized that Akechi did come. Her stride became wider as she made her way to him, unable to hide the smile on her face. 

 

“You came,” she said happily and out of breath.

 

“You seem awfully happy about it,” he commented, gaze looming over her. 

 

“Yes,” was all she could muster, “I am.”

 

Akechi couldn’t help but smile softly in secret. 

 

“It’s strange seeing you like this. Well, not strange, perhaps. Different,” she started. 

 

“I’m not sure if you’re complimenting me or-“

 

“It’s a compliment,” she said quickly, “Your hair especially… sorry! Shall we go somewhere?”

 

He was quiet for a moment, observing the nuns flocking to the prayer room for what he assumed was prayer time. 

 

“I think you have somewhere to be, Sister.”

 

“Afternoon prayer,” she said, nodding, “But Ren said-“

 

“Ren?”

 

“Father Ren… maybe if it’s for the case then-“

 

“I don’t think  _ Father  _ Ren is particularly keen on you missing your prayer in the name of progress for justice,” he said. 

 

“Should I go then? It’ll be a few hours,” she said slowly and clearly disappointed.

 

“It’s whatever you want, Sister.”

 

He wondered if he was manipulating her or if he sensed an ever so small shift in her heart and priorities. 

 

“I’ve already called you in as a favor and now I suppose forcing you to sit in during prayer would be another favor, right?” she asked sheepishly. 

 

He waited for her decision. 

 

“I’ll skip it. I’ll… do a shorter one before we discuss what I’ve found,” she decided, nodding, “Let’s do it in the church.”

 

“As you wish,” he said coolly, trying hard to avoid making a statement about the last comment she made. 

 

He slipped through the gates and led the way initially. Makoto was mesmerized, eyeing the bare of his neck for the first time and how his fringe seemed to frame his face differently now. He really was handsome, she swooned inwardly. Almost charming if he kept his mouth closed, she decided. She wondered for a brief moment what it would be like to be his lover. The thought left as quickly as it came. 

 

———

 

The church was quiet, and being in it the first time since the day he’d been called there felt seemingly off putting. In a way, it was creepy and in others, it set the scene now again and again in his fantasies that the moment he had entered, the thoughts went rampant. They were alone after all. 

 

The moment Makoto made her way to the altar, kneeled down and clasped her hands, Akechi couldn’t tell if he was in a dream or really existing. She was quiet- the way she recited her prayer with no obvious whisper even as she moved her mouth and gesturing when she saw fit made Akechi feel like he was watching an innocent girl get ready in the morning. He stood up from the first row of the church, feeling awkward suddenly. He made his way to her side, the view of her praising an omnipresence almost made him feel religious. 

 

He watched her in silence a little longer before speaking up. 

 

“Are you familiar with Abelard and Heloise?” Akechi’s voice echoes. 

 

Makoto’s forehead creases as she keeps her eyes squeezed shut, forgetting her place in her prayer. Even blinded, she could hear his fingers swipe along the Bible in front of her, tracing in two strokes on the cross embedded in the leather just as she had often done. He was close, in front of her perhaps, or maybe to the side where he thought she couldn’t gauge. She kept to herself, her mouth mimicking words that she believed she was loyal to. 

 

“Hush,” she sighed when he began to whistle lowly, obviously entertained at how unfortunately awful she was at ignoring him, “You’re making me lose my place.”

 

Akechi grinned to himself, unaware until now of how  _ great _ of a distraction he was to her. They were making progress— she now placated him with responses whereas previously the silent treatment and cold shoulder were her specialty.

 

“Say hello to whoever’s up there for me,” he eased boldly.

 

His lips pulled wider when she scowled. Her eyes snapped open and her hands unclasped to fall to her side quickly. She was greeted with the sight of Akechi flipping through the pages of the Bible in front of her like it was some dictionary. She slammed it shut, barely missing one of his fingers, and the old, dusty thing made a satisfying sound. 

 

“Abelard and Heloise,” she repeated after him, and his smirk grew as if she thought it couldn’t anymore, “What of them?”

 

“So you do know of their story?” he suggested.

 

Makoto sighed heavily, not realizing she had been holding her breath. She stood up with the help of the bolted lectern, unaware of how heavy her habit felt for some reason. She wasn’t slight, but she wasn’t particularly aware of where the detective was headed in his inquiries— making her curious and more willing to play along to his whims. 

 

“Yes,” she said quickly, already so tired of his assumptions and inferences this early, decided to say nothing else to quip back.

 

“He seduced her because she was quite the famous scholar of her time,” he started, obviously wanting to follow every statement with a probing question of ‘did you know,’ “But also because he saw her potential. It was a shame she’d been forced to take the habit by Abelard.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” she muttered quietly. 

 

“Being forced to take the habit or-“

 

“What are you trying to say, detective?” Makoto avoided his question.

 

She could feel him twitch at the title as she put distance between them once in a while to assert their differing stance. His eyes turned soft and his smile— sadness?

 

“Don’t you think we’re the same as them? The modern day Heloise and Abelard,” he suggested, “As modern as modern gets I suppose. Though instead of exchanging letters, I have to keep coming back here to talk to you. I was sure you might have forgotten how to use a phone by now.”

 

Makoto closed her eyes and rolled them inwardly. 

 

“I didn’t forget,” she said plainly, “You’re right about most of it. You keep coming back here to  _ pester  _ me, if anything, getting my hopes up about the case only to give me nothing to latch onto. I’m sure Heloise was tired of Abelard’s insistence initially.”

 

“Initially,” he pointed out.

 

“Initially,” she repeated.

 

They stood in silence again, neither one looking at one another nor at anything in particular. Makoto thought about how young Heloise must’ve been, giving up her life and her son to take the habit. Her mind wandered for a second about what kind of life they could’ve had had she just stuck to her studies. And of course, the thought took up residence in the forefront of her mind for a while longer before Akechi broke the silence. 

 

“Why do I get this feeling you’re not as good as you make yourself out to be?” he asked lowly. 

 

It wasn’t particularly pinpointed at anything she had done immediately, but Makoto thought about the phone turned off under her bed tucked away with the pistol wrapped tightly in the box. Her jaw clenched, and he noticed. She was standing now, and he had somehow made his way to be very close to her. The words suddenly felt seductive when she thought about it slightly longer, catching herself in her fantasy to respond. 

 

“I’ve only been here for a few months,” she reminded him, “Hardly enough time for all my sins to be forgotten.”

 

He was looking at her with intrigue, and her hands folded together around the rosary wounded around her arm. He watched her fingers expertly clasp onto the cross at the end, like she had been playing with it in her free time more than anything. 

 

“You were wrong about another thing,” she continued.

 

Akechi perked up.

 

“We’re not in love,” she finished quietly.

 

He looked at her with an unchanging face, heart probably breaking into a million little pieces and she would be none the wiser. 

 

“Unlike Heloise and Abelard,” she added just as quietly.

 

In reality, he stayed put and stood where he was. But for some reason, Makoto felt like he’d gotten closer and she could feel his breath on her, the pads of his fingers pressed into what skin was exposed on her body burning her as he roamed. 

 

“No,” he agreed, albeit very slowly, “We’re not in love.”

 

They were quiet for a moment, Akechi analyzing the dark circles under her eyes, and then to the hue of her red eyes. He grimaced internally at the difference from when he had first met her and how much it contrasted from how she was now. She was tired, and with each passing day he could feel her spirit wilt away. Still, her lips parted mysteriously like she was silently begging for release, for someone other than him to save her. However much he longed to be that person for her, Akechi knew there to be another. He grew cold. 

 

To his bitterness, he could see her frame freeze up as he walked past her, and then shift slightly upwards. Her obedience would get the best of her someday, and Akechi felt bad for falling prey to the behaviors he loathed. He felt his heart cling to the comforting feeling of jealousy a little longer. The jealous strings that tugged at his heart turned into something else soon enough. The desire to be noticed. 

 

“What would it take for us to be?” he asked challengingly, inching closer again. 

 

Makoto froze, analyzing the question from every possible angle, wondering where the boldness was coming from all of a sudden. It wasn’t the first time they’d been so close in vicinity, his forehead had pressed against hers the other day on the train, her arm pressed against his. Within moments, he was within reach once more and up close she felt her eyes traverse up the length of his neck, exposed for the first time with his hair tied up. His eyes were sullen and curious, awaiting her reply. 

 

He meant to say,  _ what would it take for us to be in love?  _

 

_ What would it take for me to steal you away from here and keep you for myself?  _

 

_ What would it take for you to be mine? _

 

Naturally, she wanted to pretend she didn’t know. She snapped out of her thoughts when he touched her hand, skin against skin for the first time. His fingers traced the words on the cover of her Bible which she clutched so close to her heart. Akechi waited patiently for her response, every passing second allowed him to peruse the warmth of her skin, and she wasn’t pulling away.

 

_ What if I’m already yours?  _ the thought crossed her mind as it swam alongside a million other reasons why they weren’t in love. Makoto would be lying if she was going to use chemistry as a reason. They fit like a glove, like two puzzle pieces only meant for each other and no one else. Tension was the magnet that made them turn around and face each other again and again. Whatever pull she felt, she kept pushing it away more and more. The magnitude was growing too much to bear at this point and it would only get worse- and he was standing so  _ damn  _ close. 

 

“Circumstance,” she said finally, words touching his skin from their distance.

 

He nodded, agreeably, “What do these circumstances entail?”

 

“We live in two different worlds,” she responded much faster this time. 

 

He nodded again in agreement, “Is that all? One would think the boundaries of these two worlds are quite malleable, wouldn’t you agree?”

 

Makoto shifted uncomfortably, his hand had ventured to take the Bible out of her grip. She was silent when prompted with a closed question, a simple yes or no. 

 

“We make a good team,” he commented, “You have a gift and I value your thoughts on things. I admire your stubbornness even moreso.”

 

“This almost sounds like a proposal to be partners,” she noted. 

 

He smirked slightly at her choice of words. Partners. 

 

“I think your dream of being a police officer would be more possible than you think,” he said slowly, “You have a knack for it. Forgive me if I say that you’re wasting it here.”

 

“My place is here,” she said indignantly, responding quickly so he wouldn’t have room to question her. 

 

“Is it so interesting to analyze the same words over and over again for the rest of your life?”

 

“Yes.”

 

_ No.  _

 

“I don’t think,” he started, voice almost dangerously smooth when he pried open the Bible in his hand, “you really think that. So what’s really stopping you from leaving if we remove your sister from the equation?” 

 

Makoto flinched at the mention of Sae. As of late, she had slowly started to come to terms with the fact that she was just afraid of confronting herself. If she really removed Sae from all of it, there was no reason for her to be here. 

 

“Do you think you’re getting back at her by being here-“

 

“That’s enough.”

 

“I don’t claim to know anything about you but if there’s one thing we have in common it’s that we get caught up with our motivations revolving around a singular person.”

 

“You say that like you have experience in matters involving family,” she said coldly. 

 

“I don’t. And that’s why I’m saying it.”

 

Makoto fell silent, her hands wounded tight around the rosary, feeling the sharpness of the edges of the cross dig into her palm as she held back wanting to both punch Akechi in the face and crush her lips over his so he’d shut up. 

 

“I never had a family,” he said lowly, “My mother’s despair led to her death and I found myself moving from foster home to foster home. I’ll never forgive my father and for a long while there I considered exacting revenge for my miserable life.”

 

_ Why are you telling me this?! _ she screamed inwardly,  _ I don’t need more reason to empathize with you.  _

 

“You’re lonely,” she said quietly, realizing only afterwards that the words slipped out. 

 

He looked to her, smiling sadly. 

 

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he said jokingly, “You’d find that even though I have every reason to be upset with my life, I can’t seem to be. Maybe that’s why my justice is the way that it is.”

 

“Justice…”

 

“Justice in living a life that he thought he had ruined.” 

 

If Makoto hadn’t been so caught up in his words and how much they meant to her, she’d tell him how minuscule the chances are that he is who he is today. They were quiet for a long while. His hand had long left hers, ghosting her waist before he tentatively touched her there fully expecting her to pull away. Up close, he could hear her heart, feel her heavy breaths as she contemplated to tell her side of things. 

 

“I want to be useful,” she said, intending to answer his previous question, “She said… Sis said I was of no use to her the night before I left. There was no way I could prove to her that I would be someday. In the end-“

 

“Leave this place,” he said firmly, “Leave it and prove it to her.”

 

She blinked back tears, voice straining. 

 

“How can I prove it to her when I…”

 

_ When I can’t even prove it to myself? _

 

Akechi allowed her to be silent without praying anymore. Every fiber in his being wanted to hold her tight and never let go. He felt his heart sink at her words. Even though his intentions weren’t to hurt her, his words came off as callous and he had no business asking her such calculating questions. In the end, she confided in him. 

 

“What would it take for you to leave?” he asked, mirroring his first question.

 

“I wouldn’t know,” she said quietly, mesmerized by his long fingers holding her bible, realizing it had been the first time he was without his gloves. 

 

“Makoto.” 

 

She had averted his gaze for too long and now dared to look at him shyly. 

 

“Why are you doing this, detective?” she sighed, feeling her restraint fray. 

 

“Because of reasons I cannot yet divulge,” he whispered, his hand leaving her waist to trace her jaw tenderly. 

 

“But you will tell me these reasons in due time,” she said. 

 

“I may not get the chance to. But I would like to,” he said, tilting her head close to his. 

 

“What’s stopping you from telling me?”

 

“What’s stopping you from leaving?”

 

She was silent, both wishing he’d just kiss her finally and pushing her away before she got too attached. He leaned closer like it was second nature.

 

“Please,” she said hoarsely, “Don’t.”

 

_ I don’t need more reason to fall in love with you,  _ she screamed inwardly. 

 

_ Why are you making this so hard for me? _

 

_ Why is all of this so hard? _

 

He released her reluctantly, gently shoving the book into her arms. Makoto had almost forgotten where she was thanks to his seduction. She grimaced when he turned away, disposition changing. 

 

“The entry you found,” he said, changing topics quickly and smoothly, “You have yet to show it to me.”

 

“I didn’t bring it with me. Would you still believe me if I recited it to you?”

 

“You memorized it?”

 

“I read it. A lot.”

 

“Go ahead.”

 

She did, enunciating certain words a little too heavily. It was like a confession and Akechi had a hard time snapping back when she finished, realizing it wasn’t from her to him. 

 

“The study then?”

 

Makoto nodded. 

 

“Clearly she’s describing a man,” he said, obviously, “There are no men here save for Ren. What do you think about that?”

 

“It’s not Ren,” she said with certainty.

 

He waited for her explanation.

 

“He only arrived after the murder had happened. He’d been transferred over to help watch over things until the case was solved.”

 

“And it has been as much as I’m concerned,” Akechi said nonchalantly, “Why is he still here?”

 

“He believes… in me, I suppose.”

 

Akechi sighed, massaging the back of his neck.

 

“He told you he was transferred to a convent specifically for nuns. I suppose that’s interesting since a flock of women clearly can’t fend for themselves so the best strategy is to send in a male to herd them.”

 

“He has an alibi,” she sneered.

 

“Does he? What was he doing the night of the murder? For all you know he simply showed up to ensure the case was resolved the way he wanted it to be. If that’s true, we’re both in danger.”

 

“Why are you only telling me now that you suspect Ren?! He’s given you the means to investigate the convent freely. You asked for me to assist and I did,” she nearly yelled at him. 

 

“You wanted to assist me more than I needed you to,” he said accidentally.

 

Makoto was appalled at his response, taken aback by his bluntness. She didn’t know if she felt hurt or he had deliberately remembered her desire to be useful and turned it around on her.

 

“Makoto-“

 

“Save it. This isn’t about me right now. I’ll be hurt by it later when it’s more convenient.”

 

Akechi sighed, knowing he had fucked up royally both in making her feel useless and also partially admitting that he had asked to employ her just for his own pleasure. Makoto didn’t think of the latter at all. 

 

“It wasn’t Ren. The murder could’ve happened between the time she went to the study to find this priest or after she had found him. Either way, she made a promise to report in her entry and never did. She never made it back,” she explained.

 

“I gathered as much. So then we’re looking for a priest, or essentially anyone that would be on the church grounds at nighttime. And sorry to say, Ren is a priest and he had means to be here that night. He fits the profile.”

 

“It could’ve been any priest,” she implored, “I’m so dumb. If only I could remember who was visiting that day.”

 

“Don’t say that. You’re saying you wish you could’ve seen a murder coming and that’s just not reasonable.”

 

She opened her mouth to argue but closed it almost immediately. 

 

“Just trust me then. It’s not Ren,” she said quietly.

 

Akechi suddenly understood.

 

“You’re trying to protect him,” he said lowly.

 

“I’m not!”

 

“Why are you so certain that it wasn’t him when we have the slightest lead. Didn’t you want to expose the truth? What is your justice anyways if not the truth?” he asked, attempting to control his jealousy and anger.

 

“My justice …”

 

“Give me one good reason not to at least suspect Ren,” he demanded.

 

Makoto was quiet, looking away.

 

“He’s kind.”

 

Akechi was indignant.

 

“Goodbye, Sister.”

 

———

 

Makoto left the church, eyes red. Akechi was long gone, fuming obviously as the echoes of his steps grew quieter and quieter into the distance. She was sullen, but mostly confused. If she had been promoted to note what kind of anger he showed, she wouldn’t know what to say. Afternoon prayer had long ended, and just as Makoto had attempted to slip back in with the rest of the nuns, Ren was entering the church.

 

“Sister Makoto,” he said warmly.

 

“Father Ren,” she attempted to greet happily.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Huh? Nothing.”

 

“Your eyes are red as if you’ve been crying,” he pointed out, “I missed you at afternoon prayer today.”

 

“I uh… the detective came. I think we may have found some evidence for a lead.”

 

“Oh? But are you all right was my question,” he said, smiling. 

 

“Just a bit overwhelmed, I guess,” she smiled weakly, forgetting about her habit and attempting to smooth her hand over her hair nervously. 

 

“The evidence was that overwhelming? I’m curious as to what you’ve found,” he said. 

 

Makoto felt a chill go up her spine. 

 

“The detective and I,” she said slowly, “We had a difference of opinion.”

 

He nodded understandingly, staying silent as if to wait for her answer to his request. 

 

“We found a journal entry.”

 

Ren smiled at an attempt to be relieved. He motioned for her to follow him. The church was empty save for the two of them and the silence was deafening. 

 

“I believe the late Sister may have encountered the murderer either between the time she went to the study or after she’d left it.”

 

Ren was silent, walking up to the front of the altar. Makoto followed. 

 

“She was looking for a priest, it seems. But given the nature of the church, we don’t have priests visiting quite often. I’m going to speak to the other Sisters tomorrow in attempt to find out who it was,” she told him. 

 

He turned to her, his dark bangs shielding his eyes for the most part, leaving his expression unreadable. 

 

“Makoto,” he started, “do you dance?”

 

Makoto froze, registering what he was asking as something unrelated to the church and the case.

 

“Um. Not for a while. I’m sure I remember though,” she said softly. 

 

He smiled at her secretly, one certain to make any woman melt. Makoto wasn’t just any woman. He offered her his hand. She was confused at first until he took her hand instead. He pulled her hand up and the other sat at her waist, the notion reminding her of Akechi earlier that afternoon, and it sent a shock up her spine. 

 

“Father Ren… why are you doing this?” Makoto asked plainly. 

 

He was silent, and his smile never faltered. His hand was loose around hers and his other around her waist held her within arms reach. A gentle tug and she would’ve been flush against his body- if he wanted to.

 

“You deserve a little happiness here and there, Makoto. Life is about loving God but how do you find that love when you’re not happy?” he asked in return.

 

“I am happy,” she responded quietly. 

 

He led her in a slow dance, and she picked up the steps with ease. The length of her garb spinning and she felt a breeze around her legs. Soon, she began to recognize the rhythm in her steps in tandem with Ren’s. 

 

“What’s made you happy?” he asked.

 

Being useful, she thought. Akechi’s visits. His banters with her, as annoying and pestering as they were. The evidence they’d found together. The gun under her bed- how she could end it all if she wanted to. Her way out. 

 

“Being here has made me the happiest I’ve ever been,” she lied through her teeth, “So close to God.”

 

Ren spun her. The waves of fabric twisted along with the motion and the dance made Makoto dizzy for a moment. He caught her effortlessly and dipped her low. Makoto craned her neck to look at him, feeling the habit around her head could slip at any moment. She saw the curve of his lips peel into a bigger smile. He was happy with her response, surely. 

 

“I’m glad you’re happy here,” he said heartily, “I’d hate to hear that your decision would be unfavorable when your postulancy is up.”

 

Time slowed down. Her postulancy. In the midst of their foolish tango, Makoto had forgotten about the case. She’d forgotten the whole reason she was here. Ren pulled her back up and pulled her close, flush against his body. 

 

“You are planning to commit, aren’t you, Sister Makoto?” he asked, reminding her with the prefix. 

 

She didn’t know. The taste of freedom had given her hope. Akechi had asked her once to leave in place of her asking herself to. Ever since then, it became something she considered. Ren sensed her hesitance. 

 

“I see,” he said, releasing her.

 

Makoto bit her lip, feelings of impressing adults and all those around her suddenly came flooding back.

 

“I want to give you more responsibilities between now and the end of your postulancy then,” he said cheerfully, “These chores day end and day out must really bore someone like you so I have to apologize for them.”

 

“Father-“

 

“No, I’m insisting. You really are brilliant, Makoto. There’s something about you I can’t quite place, and I haven’t seen something like it in a very long time. You have a gift. You belong here,” he said convincingly.

 

“Sorry I just.. it’s not that I was planning to say no. This case has been on my mind,” she said half-lying, knowing very well Akechi was at the forefront recently.

 

“If I could alleviate the burdens of that in exchange for your loyalty I would,” he said chuckling, “Though you are doing a great service for the church in bringing justice for your Sister.”

 

The constant flow of compliments made her feel on edge but she couldn’t help but want to stay in hopes of impressing Ren. 

 

“I… I feel like we’re so far away from figuring this out but this is the first piece of evidence that we’ve found so I want to fight as hard as I can,” she said. 

 

“And as you should,” he agreed, “I have a feeling you’ll like the new responsibilities I’m giving you though. It’s something unheard of but I’m certain it’ll be right up your alley.”

 

“Father Ren?”

 

———

 

It was dark by the time Akechi arrived home. The anger had since been replaced with both guilt and an uncomfortable feeling of newfound desire. He wondered if he should text her in hopes that he could apologize but he wasn’t really the type to. Would they be seeing each other in a week- they didn’t hash that out. 

 

He cursed, feeling more sorry as time went on. He had no other means of distraction other than going to bed or relieving himself of the stress. Akechi opted for a shower, shedding off his clothes easily and untying his mess of hair. The moment he got into the water, he felt a pang of unwanted desire pool at his core. 

 

_ Fuck, why…  _

 

Ignoring it, he scrubbed at his scalp and washed off quickly. The hot water scalding his skin just the way he liked it. When he stepped out, the crisp cool air greeted him and he shivered, forgetting all the warmth in his body was concentrated in one area alone. 

 

Throwing on a white v neck and boxers, he climbed into bed and stared at the clock menacingly. It read 10:47 and he was grateful he could get an extra few hours in before the morning since he could feel a headache coming.

 

Akechi laid there, scrolling aimlessly through his phone before opening up messages once more. He reread the texts between him and Makoto like one would trace the letters of their loved one’s name. It was cathartic in a way, but mostly masochistic. 

 

Her stubbornness had made him angry but mostly because she couldn’t stand to believe her  _ precious  _ priest could be a murderer. He knew there to be another and now that he had clearly identified who it was, he felt like throwing up and crushing his feelings. Unfortunately for him, he knew they wouldn’t go away even if he tried. And why wouldn’t she fancy Ren? He was tall, dark and handsome as all the girls liked nowadays. Not to mention she was just his type- religious, uptight and celibate.

 

He took solace for a moment knowing neither one of them would ever leave the church and elope, but the thought entered his mind and began to fester. He felt his jealousy return tenfold and his heart throbbed painfully. Sighing to himself, he considered taking the sleeping pills again. And as if his preexisting disdain for himself wasn’t already off the charts, his erection wasn’t particularly helping either. 

 

He allowed his mind to enter a dark place for a moment. Wondering briefly if he could take her forcibly. He would be gentle initially, his heart belonged to her after all, and he had little desire to hurt her- but she needed to be punished. 

 

Some twisted fantasy manifested as if his ugliness had taken over like it had used to and consume him. He imagined pressing her against one of the altar tables, both of her wrists easily between one of his hands. Akechi would’ve torn her habit into rags with ease, revealing those stockings that he had caught a glimpse of in the past, leaving him aching in curiosity. Tugging off his tie, he bound her wrists, trapping her body between his hard-on and the cold, rigid table. He hated how vivid his imagination was, he could practically hear her crying as she begged for him to stop. He couldn’t control himself- he was off the deep end. 

 

His fingers relished in the fabric of her stockings for a moment but he didn’t care for them if he could feel her skin. He tore those too, eliciting a painful yelp from the poor nun. He flipped her over quickly, pain overcoming her when her back slammed against the table, shaking it. She would beg him to stop, but he had something to prove. Akechi wanted to sink his teeth into her thighs, drawing blood for all he cared as she cried. His mouth found her cunt, lapping at the wetness there and sucking on her clit for his own satisfaction. He knew it would be more discomforting than anything else for her but he didn’t care. 

 

He’d drink her nectar to his heart’s content, only to regret leaving her mouth unbound when she cried out Ren’s name during release. He grew livid just at the thought of it, gripping his erection in real time painfully. Would he have the heart to slap her? Perhaps he’d make that untactful mouth of hers be more useful in other ways. Akechi wanted to scream at his horrible side to stop, but he was too far in. The other him snickered, knowing very well how far his possessive nature truly went. 

 

He crushed her mouth in his fantasy, slipping his tongue in between her gasps and ensuring his fingers were tangled around her neck. He left painful, bruising hickies along her exposed chest and neck, riveted at the indecent view of her being defiled against her will. Tears streamed down her face, but the psychotic within him couldn’t care less. She’d know real pain if she dared to look to his past, or better yet, his heart he served her on a silver platter. 

 

He could hear her whimpering for him to stop, begging him to have mercy. Akechi could see now how hard he was grabbing at her skin, the clear indents of his fingers all along her soft hips and thighs. He released her, to her relief. With no warning, he unzipped his pants and entered her. 

 

Akechi felt angry tears roll down his cheek, regrettably taking her as he watched her powerless expression. He watched her ego fade, her face twisted in shame and pain. He grew tired of seeing her resentment and turned her over once more. No matter how much she begged for him to stop nor the descriptions of pain she felt, Akechi couldn’t stop, allowing the jealousy to envelop his entire being. Surprisingly, he could feel her clench around him, signaling that she was going to come. Her pride was stripped away, and she moaned unknowing that she was experiencing her orgasm. 

 

Akechi felt himself building up to his climax, feeling extreme shame at the fantasy he was getting off to. Makoto’s body sank against the table motionless. He rutted himself inside of her and pulled out only when he began to grow soft. Her body heaved against the table as she sobbed quietly. He felt a pang in his throat and he soothed her gently with the brush of his hand on the red marks from gripping her ass and hips too hard. After all, he was madly and pathetically in love with her still. So painfully in love- he knew that now. 

 

He gingerly turned her over, wrapping her body in his arms as he carried off to some newly manifested bedroom. He made sure to clean her up, undoing the rest of the soiled habit and removing it from her body. The headpiece went next, his hand carding through the strands of her hair as he hushed her. Finally, her sobs died down and the fatigue caught up to her. He pressed soft kisses into each of the bruises and hickies on her body, feeling content when Makoto would let out the softest relieved sigh. 

 

Akechi didn’t know how to say sorry. He did so with his actions, pressing his lips to each of her knuckles, fully expecting her to punch him at any given point. She silently motioned for him to get into bed with her, and grew shy again. He was a monster, but in this fantasy, she could learn to love one. 

 

Tucking her bangs out of her face, Akechi presses his lips to her forehead and nudged her against the curve of his body. 

 

_ I can’t stand to see you want someone other than me.  _

 

She sighed happily when he wrapped his arms around her, as if she’d just woken up from a nightmare of some beast devouring her and she was glad it wasn’t him. He would never hurt her, right? Makoto intertwined her fingers with his, kissing each of the digits tenderly. 

 

_ I know. But you don’t have to worry about that,  _ she would say.

 

As if. 

 

Just as he’d started to fall asleep, the warmth of her body faded and she vanished. A pool of cum was splayed on his stomach, and Akechi turned slightly to grab the tissues from his bedside. He sighed, wishing he was thoroughly drunk or dosed with a heavy drug to forget the fantasy as a whole. But it wouldn’t change the fact that he got off to the idea of possessing her, ravishing her to his heart’s content at the cost of her own happiness. 

 

How could she forgive him when he couldn’t even forgive himself? Akechi had no idea what he would do now. He showed himself the way out, and she didn’t go after him. She didn’t chase him. She didn’t want him, that was obvious enough. 

 

His justice wasn’t with the case. She wouldn’t care if he never came back, probably. He turned over onto his side, a soft tear rolling down his cheek once again.

 

Akechi despised himself. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I’ll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife_

Makoto felt like she had something to apologize for. After all, she made the detective angry for whatever reason, so naturally she must be at fault. Her mind was elsewhere for the rest of the week, and when she was needed, she spent a lot of her time holed up in her room. If there were others watching her, they might have sensed a change within her. She was distracted, aimless in her talks with the other Sisters, and eyes sullen when spoken to. Days came and went, and the detective hadn’t bothered to come. Perhaps he was letting the thoughts of their conversation simmer for a bit, she thought hopefully. But it was clear that she’d be on her own for a bit longer.

 

One evening, Makoto found herself dangling her arm over the bedside, a pose most improper for a nun and for someone like her. Some sort of uneasiness overcame her like boredom, and she flicked the shoe box under the bed close to her so that it’d be in view. With one hand, she removed the cover and gently touched the suede fabric that blanketed her gun. 

 

_ I have to go somewhere now, Makoto.  _

 

She remembered her father’s words. He didn’t have to explain, and even though he did, she knew he meant well. He’d do anything for his justice, even if in the end he left her and Sae broken-hearted. Her fingers traced what she knew was the barrel, and then the trigger. There were no bullets in there, but she knew the intentions of the weapon and what it would mean to simply fire it. 

 

Grappling with the self-destructive thoughts once again, her mind wandered back to Akechi. What would it take for her to leave, she asked herself like he had that day. Some sort of force, perhaps. For the real world to want her back. There was already someone who wanted her, she told herself. He was kind, calloused and blunt, but she sensed his kindness. For some unknown reason, she felt her heart tug ever so slightly when she thought of him. It was as if she wished there was meaning behind his words, or better yet that those words meant something to him and he didn’t simply say it to appease her. He was very good with words. 

 

Her fingers left the gun and she reached for her phone. Lingering for a moment, she finally rolled into her back and powered it on. It sat at a solid 35% battery life- and no messages from the detective. She sighed a little, tracing a finger over his number and opening up the contact details. Makoto wanted to give him a name. They were more than just colleagues by now, certainly. Would it be selfish of her to want him to continue visiting even after they’d solve the case? Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst to believe in his words and think for once that she was useful and worth something. 

 

Makoto smiled sadly, typing in a name for the number.

 

_ Akechi Goro. _

 

Because they were nothing, really. They weren’t close. But for the second time, Makoto thought again what it would be like to be his lover. The thoughts lingered longer than the last.

 

———

 

Akechi decided to be  _ celibate  _ for a bit, abstaining from the shame he’d feel in the aftermath of his masturbations. He found that dreams came twofold to taunt him when he didn’t. He couldn’t win. He’d arrived home for the evening after throwing himself into mindless work, even offering to do paperwork for his colleagues’ cases. Anything to get him perspective away from the damn church. He shrugged off his clothes and planted himself into bed. The cold sheets were comforting, and he’d been so tired as of late that thinking about Makoto wasn’t an easy option anymore.

 

Still, doubt taunted his desires and he growled at the new visions she had conjured for him from his dreams. In the past, he would take her unwillingly, dubiously, and he felt awful for the thoughts of her resisting against him, crying for him to stop. Still, there was an appeal to the way she’d break and he’d make sure she’d crave only him going forward- no other could please her if he had only been given the chance to show her. But now, knowing that she’d offered herself so willingly like in his dreams had only made the appeal of her even stronger, and conjured an entirely different scenario. With every motion and the tangle of their bodies, he knew she’d be doing it willingly. These thoughts only added fuel to the fire -the opposite reaction to his expectations. His breath hitches ever so slightly that night when he laid in bed stroking himself- he lasted a solid five days. His voice trembled when the quietest moan escaped from his lips unwarranted. He knew he was doomed. 

 

What would it be like at the end of all of this? She didn’t want him and that was obvious enough. They’d go their separate ways and he’d just live the rest of his life knowing no other woman would ever match her. If she left the church, she’d probably end up in the arms of some charming nobody. He’d break. But what could he do?

 

In his mind, she hovered above him, untainted and curious. Her mouth twitched upwards shyly, but her eyes never averted from his as she ran the length of her fingers down his chest. He wished for his ministrations to be long, marking up her untouched skin, exploring the continents of her body like he’d never felt the body of a woman before. He’d wait for her reactions, the mewl of her voice tugging on both sides of him as he ached to take her impatiently, but also to claim her slowly and savor - for it’d be the first time and the last. He envisioned the sounds she’d make when he flipped her over. Akechi dove between her legs, hands holding down her hips as he sank his teeth into the flesh on her inner thighs, inviting red marks before he inched closer and closer to the unexplored regions. She’d be tight - so  _ fucking _ tight. Did he even have the patience to ease her into his size? For the sake of his fantasy, he inserted inside of her with one graceful motion with no friction whatsoever. He envisioned her soaking wet, a sensation that she was unfamiliar with and she’d moan and whine at the uncertainty of it all. 

 

Akechi groaned at the thought, cursing her name just to hear it. Just to know she was real. Real and not his.

 

Now that he was inside of her, her face twisted in surprise and pure pleasure; the image merely brought him to the edge and coaxed his orgasm in one go, but he held it in, hesitating his hand on his length when he saw those red eyes roll back into her skull. Her knees no longer caved inwards fearfully, but she spread them wide for him so that he could begin his claim. She’d be vocal, asking the entire time what the sensations meant and why her body acted the way it did. How long she’d gone without knowing her body was capable of such pleasure and how she ached for Akechi to show her more. He was wishful as he imagined their first time to be perfect. Her mouth would be ajar as she let out a sputter of moans every time he eased in and out of her. Her lips would clamp down on his thumb when he went to brush her swollen lips, sucking on it as he slid in and out of her. When she grew tired, she’d rest her cheek against his palm, one hand wrapped around his wrist for fear of him letting her go. The other would be grabbing onto whatever of part of his body she could get a hold of as she held onto him for leverage. 

 

Akechi sighed at the thought of her touching him in return, enveloping himself in them so thoroughly that he sought some sort of physical reminder that they were only visions that lived in his head. In his mind, he was stroking the length of her long hair -one of the things she continued to hold onto during her postulancy, he believed. It was a reminder that through her trials at the convent, she could still turn back if she wanted to -and the thought of this left a small hopeful feeling that gnawed at his heart. His mind wandered back, her wetness allowed him easy entrance, and her cunt clamped down on him as she throbbed her way to her orgasm. In actuality, his hand was the only thing that aided these visions, and nothing would compare to the feeling of being truly inside of her. 

 

He cursed her name over and over again as he submitted to his fantasy. 

 

“You’ve truly ruined me,” he hissed, “Ma. Ko. To.”

 

Akechi hated the thought of his lust consuming him day and night, but the pain he felt doubled whenever he neglected himself. She’s ruined him for every other woman, he thought to himself, for just the possibility of owning her innocence was a desire that seemed to overshadow any he potentially had before. Anything he could’ve ever wanted prior to this, he had quickly forgotten. He felt possessive over something he didn’t have, and how he ached to own it. She was tantalizing without even trying, and her greatest draw made him fearful for both him and her. His lapse in his fantasy ended, and a reminder returned twofold when he felt his cock twitch against his palm. 

 

The impressions of her face were extremely lackluster in his mind. He’d never see her face contorted in such a way, muscles tense at the feeling of desire and pleasure. He made them all up for his sake, and he tucked away the thought of never being able to see them in the back of his mind for now. Still, Akechi came close to his orgasm and he could feel his control over his thoughts melt away when he imagined her on top of him again. It was where she belonged, for he knew she’d have it no other way in reality. She heaved her body up and down his member, crying out in pleasure and knowing not what to do with it all. 

 

Akechi let out a loud moan at the thought, her little voice reaching him through the twists and turns of his body like some angelic song, and he splintered like a vase, shattering into a million pieces as he came undone at the mere thought of her  _ saying _ his name. He came onto the plains of his stomach, quietly whispering her name over and over again as if she were the God he worshipped. He lost it completely in the darkness, he really did see the silhouette of her body above him now, the length of her hair kissing his shoulders as she leaned down to press her inexperienced lips against his - in reality, her body was masked in the darkness of his room. He combed her hair with his fingers as she laid atop of him, tired and happy. He squeezed every last drop of the sticky ooze onto his body, and still he felt the rage of his erection stay put. He sighed at how drained he was, and he had no energy to conjure up fake imagery anymore. After he cleaned himself with the tissues by his bedside, he turned to his side and fell asleep to the best of his ability.

 

He dreamt of nothing that night short of the vision of Makoto holding his head close to her chest, her heart, as she whispered her prayers quietly for him to hear. In place of God, she whispered his name, and he lapped at every word she said like it was honey.

 

The thought of telling her crossed his mind. A small voice piped up and asked him why. Closure, he answered. The voice pressed on, as if closure would help. 

 

_ What would help? _ He laid there wondering. He wouldn’t necessarily admit to being a devoted man- he liked those that knew their distances. But she was just a little  _ too  _ far away. Maybe simply confessing would nip this all in the bud. He’d have to be plain about it, lest she find some way to spin it into anything else. 

 

Akechi was tired. He wound his arms around the sheets as if she were there. She was his lover in his dreams, and only his dreams. Maybe he’d find a way to not ever wake up.

 

———

 

Makoto woke up with a pain in her neck. Winters were the worst because she’d wake up to complete darkness and no way of going back to sleep. Summers were unbearable as well with its sticky heat. Coincidentally, there came a knock at her door. She was tired and groggy, wishing with every fiber of her being that she could sleep in just a while longer. She rushed to get her habit in place and bolted to the door. 

 

A semi wide eyed girl stared back with a smirk. 

 

“I’m surprised you’re awake,” she said.

 

“Sister Hifumi… morning prayer’s in an hour. What are you doing up so early?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

 

“I found us a shogi board,” she said impishly, “Thought I’d come bother you for a game.”

 

“How did you know where my room was?” 

 

“Secret.” 

 

———

 

The air was cold and there was a draft in the study. Makoto felt a bit guilty for having escaped her early chores to indulge in a game, but Hifumi insisted. Ren said it was okay. She began the game almost instantly, intrigued at Makoto’s next move.

 

“I have to warn you,” Makoto said, “I’m particularly tired this morning so no promises that I’ll play well.”

 

“You’ll do just fine,” she nodded in return.

 

Their moves were silent save for the times when Hifumi would slam a shogi piece down in victory.

 

“You’re pretty good,” Makoto commented sheepishly, watching another piece slammed down. 

 

“I held the championship title for a while,” she smirked. 

 

“You had time to do that while being a nun?”

 

“Makoto, you’re too funny,” Hifumi noted, “Being a nun doesn’t mean that doing something I like is a sin. At the end of the day, we’re simply more devoted people.”

 

Makoto was silent, thinking about her words.

 

“Where did you find the shogi board anyways?”

 

“Ren.”

 

“I see. Father Ren has an arsenal of board games?”

 

“I had to ask for a favor,” Hifumi replied nonchalantly, “You’re horrible by the way.”

 

Makoto had fibbed about being particularly good at shogi, but it didn’t explain why she was playing so horribly. She was trying to find a way to probe her in the right direction. 

 

“I used to play with… the late Sister,” Makoto lied, “When the murder happened, I got rid of the board.”

 

“Interesting. Sad thing that happened to her.”

 

It might have been a simple slip up, but Makoto wondered why Hifumi went along with the “murder.” It’d been announced as a suicide to the Sisters after all. 

 

“I guess I got rusty,” Makoto said quickly, “I really wish I could be doing more for this case.”

 

“Maybe it’s time to let it go,” Hifumi suggested, slamming down her final piece, “I win.”

 

Makoto sulked a little. She motioned for another game.

 

“Something’s on your mind or you’re simply just bad,” Hifumi said chuckling, “I’d assume the former.”

 

“I don’t want to let it go,” Makoto replied quietly.

 

“Well, it feels like you’re grasping at whatever you can but maybe it’s not as complicated as you make it out to be.”

 

“How am I making it out to be?” Makoto asked carefully.

 

“The Sister and I used to play shogi together just as you two did. She always seemed a bit off. A little too happy at times.”

 

“You’re suggesting it was a suicide?”

 

“It’s what we were told. I’d leave the figuring out part to those more suited for the job. If it was a murder it’s implied that the convent isn’t a safe place. Don’t you feel safe here, Sister Makoto?”

 

Makoto was quiet, pondering. 

 

“Where did you used to play? She was really particular about wanting to do it in the room so the other Sisters wouldn’t find out,” Makoto changed the subject.

 

“Huh. Weird, she only wanted to play in the study with me.”

 

_ Bingo. _

 

“I’m assuming you played often?”

 

“Almost every morning,” Hifumi answered, “Sometimes at night.”

 

Makoto piped up. The entries fit what Hifumi was describing. She didn’t mention any other nuns, but did this mean Hifumi was the one who did it? Her demeanor didn’t necessarily agree. 

 

“You must’ve been horrified when she didn’t come to play the morning her body was found,” Makoto suggested. 

 

“She didn’t come the night before either,” Hifumi said, “Actually she had stopped coming for a while. I left her alone for the most part. Like I said, she was weird and… plagued about something.”

 

Makoto noted her interesting word choice. 

 

“Sister Hifumi, did you do it?”

 

Hifumi stopped setting the pieces down to look up at her. Makoto wasn’t clear, but she knew when she was being interrogated. She grew into a large smile.

 

“If I was going to do it, it wouldn’t have been in the well.”

 

Makoto was silent, chills running down her arms.

 

“Just kidding.”

 

Her responses were unsettling. But somehow Makoto knew she wasn’t lying. 

 

———

 

Akechi woke up and decided he would get over Makoto. He was five minutes deep into this plan when he pulled out his phone and began typing a lengthy apology to her and asked her when he could see her again. So far so good. 

 

_ Sorry for walking out on you the other day. Let’s reconvene and talk about what you found.  _

 

It was a good start, he decided. A little bit needy but still acceptable. He backspaced all of it. 

 

_ Hi, if the chances of you reading this are likely, then I’d like you to know that I was sorry about the other day. I think what you found was a paramount discovery and- _

 

He was an idiot. Backspace.

 

_ Hey I’m irrevocably, irrationally, neck-deep in love with you and I’d really like for you to consider leaving the church so I can take you on a nice date and ask you to be my girlfriend or something. _

 

Smooth. Backspace. He put his phone down and contemplated this whole “getting over a girl” plan he had. He’d never been so erratic and frazzled in his life, and all over  _ some  _ girl. Except she wasn’t just some girl at all. 

 

Akechi held his head in his hands, sighing visibly. The others in the office paid little attention to his meltdown. Of course, he had to give her the one journal with the evidence in it. Perhaps it would be best if he gave her the space to try and figure it out on her own. He’d be dying in the meantime but it would be a good test for him personally in terms of boundaries. He made a promise to himself that he’d see her on Sunday if she didn’t reach out to him before then. It was an innocent day to show up- everyone else would be going to church that day as well. He looked at his phone which read ‘Tuesday’ and he groaned audibly.

 

He had to tell her. Even indirectly might help these  _ horrible _ dreams and fantasies. He’d been helplessly plagued by the thoughts and his body was relentless if he didn’t yield. 

 

He’d confess to her on Sunday.

 

———

 

Makoto wanted to confront Ren. Not only did she share a good amount of information regarding the case with him, she trusted him. She trusted his opinion. Akechi held a different perspective on him but she knew in her heart it wasn’t true- she just had to go on and believe that until the real culprit showed themselves. 

 

In the end, she decided she wouldn’t. There would be nothing to confront and if Akechi held firmly onto his belief that he was the real culprit then it’d be his job to confront and bring in an investigation around Ren. In the midst of her decision, Makoto realized something. Her heart seemed to hurt and she couldn’t pinpoint why- it was as if something was missing. She sat near the back of the church, reciting along mindlessly to the prayer and realized it’d been almost a week since she’d gone without seeing the detective now. He crossed her mind like that almost constantly except it had been somewhat painful to think about him for reasons unknown to her. She stuffed the thoughts of him down until she couldn’t anymore and the physical hamper of the pain was more than she could bear. He was the link to the real world, a sanity check. Makoto doubted her ability to leave the church at all had he not entered her life so serendipitously. 

 

She couldn’t breathe for a moment, her throat tight and dry. The fear of him completely forgetting the case was now separate from her fear of being forgotten. What was this feeling exactly, she wondered, and why does it hurt so much? Unbeknownst to her, she was equally and unbearably infatuated with Akechi. She knew that the moment he walked into the church at the end of the service. 

 

Makoto’s eyes widened at his appearance. It was obvious he hadn’t been sleeping, even maybe lost a bit of weight. It was Sunday but he arrived in his usual work blazer, detective brooch sitting prominently. She hadn’t realized it, but she got up instantly and made her way to him near the entrance.

 

“You came,” she said surprised, and clearly happy to see him. 

 

She didn’t have the energy to monitor her behavior anymore. She missed him that was for sure. 

 

He nodded slowly at her, mouth held in a slight grimace as if he had something to tell her. 

 

“I can’t particularly blame you for not reaching out to me,” she said slowly and sadly, “But you just walked out on me like that the other day and-“

 

“Makoto I’m sorry.”

 

“What?”

 

He was apologizing. 

 

“I’m sorry for walking out on you. I was upset and uh-“

 

Jealous. 

 

“Had a lot of things on my mind about what you had just told me. So. Sorry.”

 

Makoto was silent, jaw almost magnetizing to the floor if she didn’t employ some sort of self control in maintaining her composure. 

 

“You’re…. sorry.”

 

“If you can’t tell I’m not particularly good at apologizing so if we can just. I don’t know, go somewhere to continue our discussion then that would be best. If you need some time to decide if you forgive me-“

 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Makoto reassured, “I have no idea why you’re apologizing.”

 

Akechi looked at her with an unreadable expression, his brows lowering and no longer furrowed in anxiety. He wasn’t pleased but he settled for her “forgiveness.” She’s too good for this world. 

 

“Actually. There’s something that’s been on my mind for a while now. I don’t think I can go on without… confessing it.”

 

“Now that you mention it... Excuse me for saying this but, you don’t look well, detective,” Makoto pointed out, “Are you sleeping at all?”

 

Akechi thought about what to say, his wet dream playing on loop in his head. 

 

“Barely,” he mustered, “If I do, I’m… tormented by nightmares.”

 

A nightmare that’ll never come true. 

 

“Something plagues your unconscious,” she said wisely, nodding to herself, “I’ve found that I sleep better when I’ve confessed.”

 

“A confession.” 

 

Akechi was thinking of the let-me-reveal-these-completely-disgusting-and-relentless-fantasies-I’ve-been-having-about-you-that-I’m-mistaking-for-love variety. Makoto was more straightforward than that.

 

“We all have sins, detective. You are no different than I under the eyes of God. Perhaps when Father is in he can-”

 

“I want you to do it,” he interjected. 

 

Makoto looked at him with her wide eyes, silent for a few moments. She recalled Ren’s words and how he’d bestowed the honor to her earlier. How progressive he was, she thought, and how special he had made her felt.

 

“You… you don’t want an absolution? Without it there’s no-”

 

“I seek no absolution for my sins, trust me. Only the truth revealed from justice, can judge me,” he went on nonchalantly.

 

“I can’t,” she simply denied.

 

He squinted, wondering why she’d entertained it earlier. 

 

“Why not?”

 

“It’s unholy. The job is meant for priests.”

 

“Why?”

 

“... I’m not a man.”

 

“And?”

 

“I can’t absolve you of your sins,” she insisted, “Father Ren granted me the ability to do so but it’s not… “

 

“Ren… overturned a misogynistic concept that’s been used for centuries so that you could feel more at place with the church and inevitably choose to stay. That’s what I’m gathering.”

 

Makoto was quiet. He was spot-on like he was a fly on the wall during their conversation. Ren granted her duties that confused her. Part of her wondered if he was playing with her or if he truly wanted her to stay. Either way, she was on the fence about it now. 

 

“Makoto, this isn’t some holy power that men have and women don’t. I suppose I’m asking if you’d listen to my troubles and give me advice.”

 

“Still, it feels wrong to do,” she said quietly.

 

He placed his hand on his hip, looking at her small figure close in like a shell. 

 

“I’m calling in my favor now,” he said. 

 

She looked up at him, remembering the favor she said she would owe him. He chose not to take it at the time but she wasn’t in a situation to deny him. Looking at him with her mouth slightly ajar for a long moment, she seceded. 

 

“Then… you want me to hear your sins, still?” she asked once more, making sure.

 

Makoto felt the hairs on her skin stand straight up when she noticed him lean in close. Light flickered across his eyes, and she knew he was serious. He dare not touch her, for she clutched her rosary close to her and knew it to be true -but he was so  _ damn _ close that she could almost feel his breath across her cheek, and so close that she could count each of the lashes that graced his auburn-red eyes. 

 

“I’m sure having someone other than I shoulder the weight of my sins will help me a great deal,” he reasoned, honey dripping from his words, “It’s a burden I’ll share with you, Sister.”

 

“It’s no burden,” Makoto insisted, her fingers wound tightly around her rosary, “Should you seek forgiveness and truly repent, then I’d be more than happy to lend a ear.”

 

She grew humble, and very surprised that he sought her out like this. The smallest smile perched on her lips, Makoto couldn’t help but feel slightly overwhelmed at him  _ needing _ something from her- and it was something she could do. He was intrigued at how quickly her demeanor changed when he insisted that he needed her for something so important and holy. 

 

“For your ears only then,” Akechi agreed, voice low and husky, leaving her even more confused and undeniably intrigued.

 

She couldn’t bear to look at him when he said it  _ like that _ and he liked the thought of her knowing something intended only for her ears. She gathered the too-long robes in one fist and climbed the short stairs into the confessional. Akechi’s eyes followed her and she dare not turn around to look back at him before closing the door to the confessional shut. The habit hid her tantalizing figure he’d seen in passing and in his dreams, and neither his eyes or liquid desire could deny it. Her waist was slim, her breasts full, and nowhere in the Holy Bible did it say that nuns had to wear stockings and heels - that he knew for certain. She was absolutely indecent, filthy, begging to be cleansed, and she hid it all under this guise of being a woman of God. He’d shatter that disguise and claim his prize in the end. The way she rejected his advances was more than enough confirmation that she couldn’t resist him for long. He smirked at her response and followed suit. 

 

Sitting inside the confessional booth, Akechi conjured up old memories from when he was all too-young, muttering confessions of wishing harm unto those that had abandoned him. He confessed to selfish desires when it came to friendships, and even apologized for wishing he’d been dead. Never in a million years did he think he’d be sitting in one again, regretting no real sin other than being unable to upend his desires for the woman who sat next to him now, separated by the thin, faux gold-plated lattice sheet. Even then, the regret liquified into something else whenever his eyes shifted over her. He heard Makoto sigh, whispering something to herself, and through the lattice, he saw her silhouette. Akechi couldn’t help but stare at her as she performed her duties as a nun to  _ help _ him. His vision filled in the patterns that barred her face from him, secretly happy that he could now stare so freely at her without her giving him looks of confusion - so confused. 

 

“In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” she began, her voice soft and laced with traces of unsurety, gesturing the cross.

 

“Amen,” Akechi said mechanically, “I know you can’t bless me, so I’ll forgo that. It’s been some time since my last confession. I believe I was five years old. I have sinned, surely. But no sin has stacked up to the ones as of late, Sister. And for those, I’m sorry.”

 

He paused, and he heard her shift impatiently.

 

“Speak plainly, please,” she urged quietly.

 

When he said no words, clearly hesitant and regretting the situation by the second, she urged again, “Go on. Tell me of your sins. May God be merciful and guide you through your confession and from it may you seek forgiveness.”

 

He smirked inwardly at how uncomfortable she seemed listening in on what was her first confession; she asked him to speak plainly and it was like she’d been conjuring up lines she’d memorized in passing. Akechi smirked at the thought of her facade. In actuality, Makoto felt her body clam up at the idea of listening to a man who she’d thought up until now as perfection lay down his pride and entertain the idea of playing with the God she held so dear. Still, she could not deny him his desire to be forgiven. She listened on, hesitantly and regrettably - for which she sought her own forgiveness in.

 

“There’s a woman,” Akechi started slowly, “She’s wedded, married and fully faithful to her beloved under the eyes of the God they swore under.”

 

Makoto exhaled, her heart choking and sputtering. She had  _ no idea _ why, but a wave of undeniable envy overcame her. This man had time to placate such terrible ideas and came to her to relinquish them when he saw fit. The lack of a moral compass contrasted everything she felt and all that she’d learned from Father Ren. Envy turned into jealousy when Makoto imagined the woman he spoke of. She shook her head visibly to focus and the feelings left as quickly as it came. She regained composure.

 

“An unwavering marriage, it seems. She rejects my advances even though I know she must feel the longing in her heart to act upon it. Sister, I  _ know _ that for certain. Still, I think about her even though I shouldn’t -for her marriage is a forbidden act that I must be a fool to think I can soil. For that, I’m  _ sorry _ .” 

 

Makoto kept quiet, and when Akechi didn’t speak, she cleared her throat to remind him that she was still listening.

 

“There’s more,” Akechi continued, pressing his face close to the barrier, “I think about her in certain... not delicate ways. Above all, I imagine ruining the sanctity of her marriage, and taking her for myself. And that - I’m sorry to say - is what I can’t seem to resist. Sorry, Sister.”

 

Inwardly, Makoto was screaming, telling him he was an idiot for even considering a married woman. Outside, she was sweating bullets, hands tugging at her robes as she withered at the way he was confessing so  _ agonizingly _ slow. And for whatever reason, he’d punctuate her title into each of his sentences like he’d been mocking her. Prior to this, he’d drop the prefix to show he didn’t acknowledge her as such. The sudden shift caught her off guard, almost making Makoto perform her duties as a nun more loyally. She shuffled, pressing her hands together in prayer as she focused on his confession, nodding as if to understand.

 

“I imagine her beneath me, body splayed timidly as she resists me. For some reason, that resistance only pushes me to desire her more. I want to break her, Sister. I want to show her what it means to feel wanted, and loved. But most of all, I want to  _ fuck _ her so hard that she forget her marriage entirely and run away with me,” Akechi said breathlessly, pausing to listen to the small ragged breaths from across the way, noises of the very resistance he spoke of, and then he added quickly at the end, “For that, I’m  _ very  _ sorry.”

 

Makoto clutched her rosary close to her heart, but it didn’t stop the pounding. The words he said, as indecent as they were, she envisioned what that  _ poor _ woman must have felt, cornered and pressed between her love for her husband and the temptation of an affair. It wasn’t something she was familiar with at all, and yet, the words he uttered to her affected her all the same. As if she wanted those words to be for her. Heat pooled at her legs, fanning the heat at her core in a way she was unfamiliar with -it was a sensation that both hurt and stroked her from the inside out. 

 

“Should I go on or-?”

 

“Yes-!” Makoto hissed, “Sorry. I’m sorry. I-it’s been a long time since your last confession. I need… to know all of it to find you a suitable penance.”

 

“I thought you weren’t allowed to do that, sister.”

 

“Akechi, just go on. Your sins are too much to bear without proper…,” she murmured quietly, trying to find a nicer way to say  _ punishment. _

 

“As you wish, Makoto,” he grinned in secret. She slipped up, muttering his name so casually like she’d done it in secret and had only continued to call him by his title as a formality. He licked his lips before saying, “These thoughts, I know them to be wrong. Absolutely wrong. But I can’t stop, and I don’t think they’ll stop anytime soon, even after this confession, even after I receive my penance, forever - until I’ve claimed her.”

 

Makoto let out a small whimper, before pressing her cheek against the lattice for support. Akechi jumped in surprise, asking if she was all right for fear that some  _ plain _ words had affected her so.

 

“I’m all right,” she responded, “Nervous. I cannot deny that this confession makes me quite uncomfortable, I’m sorry. But please, go on. I must do God’s work-”

 

He licked his lips and was silent for a very long while. Depending on how he relayed this next part, he might have fucked up something he cared about for once. 

 

“These thoughts are about you, Makoto.”

 

Makoto froze. She knew she’d never forgive herself if she ran out of the confessional, all the way to her chambers and locked herself in there for the rest of her mortal life. There was no running away from sin. She foolishly believed that he truly couldn’t contain these thoughts no matter what. She was just a prize to be won, and he’d toss her off to the side once he was finished. What made her so special is what drew him in the most was the fact that she couldn’t act on his promises, the seduction of his words. He’d soil her innocence, brush his hands and mutter “all in a day’s work” for sure.

 

She seemed to stay in place for several minutes, saying nothing, and Akechi allowed her the harrowing silence for the words to settle in. She heard him shift, and through the shadows of the lattice, he’d press his palm against it. Makoto swallowed, unsure what he wanted her to do.

 

“I’m not sorry, Makoto. I confess. These thoughts plague me and I know they’re indecent. I’m sure it must be the case for you by the way you look at me. I see you almost everyday, you’re a walking reminder of what I can’t have, and there is no force I can exert to change that. But you can. I told you already, there’s nothing you can offer me that can make these thoughts go away. Nothing-”

 

“S-stop,” Makoto begged, “Please don’t refer to me in such a way.”

 

“I don’t know what to do,” he mirrored her desperation, “I’m at much of a loss as you are. Please.”

 

“If you don’t seek an absolution, you must seek forgiveness, do you not? You must repent, and should God have mercy on you, he’ll make you forget,” she continued.

 

“God’s given up on me. He’s waiting patiently to judge me at the end. If that’s the case, there’s no point in me seeking forgiveness when the end is inevitable-”

 

“No! That’s where you’re wrong. It’s never too late-”

 

She spoke to him like her former self had been sitting opposite of her. Makoto felt the world stop as she looked upon him through that lattice. He’d been lost just as she was. With nowhere to go, perhaps she entered the convent out of spite, or truly she believed she’d be useful in a place that would accept her if she’d been faithful and loyal enough. They had to. It was never about faith or religion. It was about belonging somewhere that could not deny her. She’d been born to strangers, a sister to one that claimed worry and care. Makoto felt her heart seize up for the man in front of her seeking the same thing she had months ago. To belong somewhere. She wanted to help him. She had to. Maybe then, his curiosity would be put to ease and his focus on her would shift back entirely to the case. Maybe giving herself to save another would truly be a way of proving herself.

 

Makoto was a fool for believing that, but she believed it anyways.

 

“Then help me,” he hissed desperately, “Tell me what I can do when these thoughts won’t leave. Neither you nor God are willing to help me-”

 

He spoke as if he had been trying to find a solution. In actuality, his fantasies proved to be intoxicating enough to act on when he was alone. Akechi told himself all along that there was not a chance in hell that she’d placate these desires of his. He spoke, then, because he knew they would never come true.

 

“I’ll help you,” she concurred.

 

“What?”

 

“You said that they won’t stop, not ever. Until you’ve claimed…”

 

“Makoto-”

 

“Hush. You wanted my help. In the eyes of God, He’ll be merciful towards my actions if my intentions are pure. Let me cleanse you of these thoughts.”

 

_ Mercy. _ She was offering herself to him - her virginity. Akechi felt like a complete asshole. His hand slipped from the lattice, and she placed hers in return. She knew he could see her, the red of her eyes peering curiously and waiting for his response. 

 

“Do you accept?” she asks calmly.

 

She was too good for this world. There was no reason for her to give herself to him, and yet she was. To Akechi, it was not that she returned his desires. It only meant that her bond with God was even stronger than he thought it to be that she felt  _ so _ sorry for him that she’d be willing to give up a piece of herself in order to help him. That was unacceptable. 

 

“No.” 

 

She hid her face in her hands, distraught. Surely it was because she had wished so dearly that he receive his forgiveness. After all, the thoughts that plagued him were of her. This was her fault. She had to help him. That’s right, it was nothing else. She murmured a prayer quietly to herself, begging God for answers. Her heart pounded against her chest - she sought answers for that, too. Her face was flushed, and her body ached, especially below her abdomen. She must have been sick. She’d failed at her first confession, and it only made sense that she was distraught. Nothing else.

 

“Akechi. Tell me again. As plain as you can so I’m not mistaking what you’re telling me.”

 

Nothing else, she told herself over and over again. The words Akechi expressed felt like they were leaving physical impressions all over her. She felt her mouth dry, and her throat tight. She tossed her head back, closing her eyes tight to shut out the visions of what he described in such limited detail. 

 

“I want you.”

 

“Yes, but what does that mean?”

 

Akechi sighed, heart going at a million miles an hour. She was really making him give her the full run down when he couldn’t even look at her properly. 

 

_ I want to make love to you? I want to fuck you?  _ How much more plain and delicate could he put it? 

 

“These dreams you have. You can’t control them and you’re not to be blamed.”

 

Akechi’s eyes widened.  _ Holy fuck. _ She was confusing his desire for her as only manifestations within a dream. He couldn’t seem to find the words to change her mind. 

 

“As such I cannot offer you the penance that you seek. If you feel it is necessary, prayer will be your guide,” she said robotically. 

 

Neither one of them said anything after that and she dare not step out first. There was no way those feelings were actual ones he felt for her. That’s right, dreams were just dreams, even if she wanted them to be true. She wanted to know what it meant for him to want her. But how could she ever know if they were simply feelings that his mind fed him but disagreed with his heart? 

 

“Is there anything else?” she asked slowly.

 

“No.” 

 

Akechi couldn’t even fathom what had just happened. After revealing the fantasies he’d been having in such censored detail already, she still couldn’t seem to grasp it. He dropped it, and for some reason he felt better having confessed and knowing it wouldn’t go anywhere. He found it comical and he didn’t put it past her for misunderstanding something so painfully obvious. In Makoto’s mind, she offered him a chance of physically relinquishing those fantasies he had and he refused. He didn’t want her, simple as that. She could live with it. Probably.

 

There was an awkward moment when Makoto heard Akechi shift from the other side and she took it as her cue to leave the confessional. She hid in embarrassment when he followed suit, having a hard time looking at him. 

 

“Listen. Between the two of us,” she started slowly, “I’m sorry if I unintentionally gave you these weird thoughts. I must be the last person you wanted to think about when it comes to… sexual relations. A-and just… pretend I never offered. Please.”

 

She was completely wrong but there was almost a sense of content and complacent feeling that he felt watching her completely misunderstand his confession. It simply meant that he’d try again later at a more convenient time. Hopefully it’d be at the end of all of this. 

 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said nonchalantly.

 

_ You only broke my heart in two but I’m sure I can fix that somehow.  _

 

She nodded, clearly disappointed about something. Their eyes met very briefly and he knew she wanted to lead him somewhere to discuss the case. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first got the idea for this fic, all I wanted to do was write a confessional scene between the two of them. Lo and behold it’s evolved into this monster. I contemplated how it would’ve went if Akechi took her up on her offer.
> 
> Alas, he’s willing to wait :-)
> 
> Also— sorry for the insanely long chapter. I was really excited if you couldn’t tell.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _hold me like you mean it, take me far away_

The study was warm, as if it had been recently inhabited. Winter was approaching and the convent was fastidious about the cold given how poorly insulated the sleeping quarters were especially. Makoto felt some of this cold during nights when the thin sheet was barely enough.

 

“I’ve been talking with one of the sisters here, Hifumi, and I think she knows something,” Makoto said grimly, “She’s not particularly cooperative with me is the thing.”

 

“So you want me to speak with her,” Akechi said plainly as if he knew what she was already thinking.

 

“If you do, I’m sure that she’d think I’m suspicious of her. I might lose out on a chance to speak with her in the future if your interrogation doesn’t go well,” she decided.

 

Akechi was impatient and frustrated, wanting to repeat his question again to probe her to get to the point.

 

“No offense but this investigation is going a bit too slow,” Makoto said quietly.

 

“None taken since there really isn’t much of an investigation anyways given how we’re just latching onto hypotheticals left and right,” Akechi snided, “But if you really think we ought to question Hifumi then I’ll take your word on it.”

 

“Thank you,” she said, chewing her lip, lost in thought.

 

“Is that all?” he asked.

 

Makoto nodded slowly, avoiding his gaze. He turned and walked away from her without a second thought. She felt alone and empty. Her heart hurt. She let him walk away.

 

\-----

 

Akechi had no idea who he was looking for but he couldn’t stand to be in the room a moment longer with Makoto. As much as he could’ve taken that ‘rejection’ and gotten his closure, he felt indignant almost. It seemed as if he was right all along - her heart belonged to another for sure. He should just give up.

 

Three nuns walked by him, glancing up at him before rushing by giggling.

 

“Excuse me,” he interrupted their stroll, “I’m looking for Sister Hifumi.”

 

One of the nuns immediately froze, another gave an odd look.

 

“She’s always playing with her chessboard. I have no idea where she could be,” the third one said.

 

“Thank you,” he said graciously.

 

_That’s not helpful at all._

 

He could only hope to encounter her while she was busy with that activity. The nuns nodded before waddling away. Akechi would’ve imagined a nun intending to play chess to avoid her duties wouldn’t want to be caught doing it out in the open. Within a few turns around the hall after wandering aimlessly, he was surprised to find who he suspected was Hifumi.

 

“Sister Hifumi?” he called out to her.

 

She had taken her ‘opponent’s’ king.

 

“That’s me,” she said in a sing-song voice, “Care to play?”

 

“Don’t mind if I do actually,” he said cheerfully, sitting down.

 

“Oh? You’re much less hesitant than the other nuns. What can I do for you detective?” she asked, placing all the pieces back on the board and claiming the white side for herself.

 

“I’ve been making my rounds and speaking with the sisters about the case. I’m sure you’ve at least heard the details and the autopsy,” he started.

 

“Mhmm. Suicide.”

 

“Well,” he said, pushing his pawn forward, “it’s a little more complicated than that.”

 

“Murder.”

 

“We have a hunch that that might be the case. I’ve escalated the investigation as such and I was wondering if you knew the late sister at all?” he asked.

 

Hifumi was silent for a moment, clearly thinking about her next move than how to answer his question.

 

“I did,” she said plainly.

 

“Oh good,” he said quickly, “I had a feeling you might.”

 

“Makoto told you,” she said matter-of-factly.

 

“... She did.”

 

“She’s a liar, that sister,” Hifumi said, claiming one of his pawns.

 

Akechi’s heart wasn’t particularly in the game.

 

“A liar? How so?”

 

“She didn’t know the late sister at all. They likely only interacted when Makoto first arrived and that was it. I don’t know why she lied to me about playing chess with her and all that,” Hifumi sighed.

 

“You’re very intuitive. I’m not surprised she lied if it meant she could ensnare you to reveal some information to her,” he said amusedly.

 

It was just like Makoto. She was too good to try and manipulate and plant ideas into others. Her white lies were what made her so predictable at times unlike him. She’d have no idea that he was playing Hifumi right now.

 

“I told her in the end,” she said, “I have nothing to hide. If she firmly believes it’s a murder, I have a feeling Makoto’s the type to lose sleep over it. I’ll give her what I know if it’ll make her sleep better.”

 

Akechi grimaced at the demeanor of the nun. She was extremely blunt and callous. Akechi claimed one of her pawns.

 

“I’d be honest with you and tell you if something was confidential or not. My line of questioning is pretty straight forward.”

 

“And yet you’ve been anything but, detective. I’m sure you have an arsenal of questions ready for me. Better get to it, I’m only in the mood for one game.”

 

Akechi nodded, moving one of his pawns off to the side to stall.

 

“What’s your relationship with Ren?” he asked bluntly.

 

“He’s not interested in _those_ kinds of relationships,” she said grinning, “He’s a priest, and I’m a nun.”

 

“Your interactions-”

 

“More or less like any other nun here,” she said, picking up his pawn.

 

“I think he’s the murderer,” Akechi said.

 

Hifumi stopped to look up at him. Her eyes were unreadable, but Akechi recognized the gaze to be the same one he made towards Makoto when he repeated “we’re not in love” to her. She definitely knew something.

 

“You seem to know something about that,” Akechi said lowly.

 

“I do.”

 

Akechi ensured he kept a straight face. He didn’t know what kind of game she was playing but he would make sure he came out as the winner.

 

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” he said, chuckling, “Let’s continue then.”

 

They were quiet for a few moments, and Hifumi had no problem resuming their game.

 

“You and Makoto are similar,” she said finally after a long while.

 

Akechi smirked. They were, he wouldn’t doubt that. They were also so different that he firmly believed the cliche ‘opposites attract’ for once.

 

“I think I’d be the better detective though,” he said jokingly.

 

“No, the way you play. It’s very similar. The pawns you favor, your style of strategy. You’re distracted,” she pointed out.

 

“I’ve never played chess with Makoto but I can guarantee I’d be better than her,” he said frowning.

 

“Fine, let’s stop,” Hifumi said, “Let’s continue with your questions.”

 

“Sister Hifumi, questions are only worth asking if there’s an answer to them,” he said slowly.

 

“I’ll answer your questions,” she said smiling, “How about that?”

 

“I think we should continue with the game.”

 

“I think we’ve reached an impasse.”

 

Akechi sighed.

 

“Game then questions,” he said finally, “I’m not opposed to playing alone. I did plenty of that as an orphan.”

 

Hifumi blinked at him before continuing the game.

 

Within moments, Akechi had claimed her king, winning the game.

 

“No way…” Hifumi said quietly in disbelief, “I want a rematch.”

 

“Do you want pointers?” he teased.

 

“No, I want a rematch.”

 

“I thought you were only in the mood for one game?” he reminded her.

 

“I _was._ ”

 

“How about this? You answer my questions and I’ll _consider_ giving you a rematch. I’ll even pretend I lost the first round if you win.”

 

“That doesn’t sit well with me. You won fair and square. I do want a rematch so fine, what are your questions,” she huffed.

 

“What do you know about Ren?”

 

“Approximately 6 feet, spends his time in the study-”

 

“On the topic of ‘murderer’ please.”

 

“You’ve got the wrong guy.”

 

“You didn’t seem to think so earlier.”

 

“I was… thrown off by how forward you were.”

 

“Should I be less forward? He fits the profile of the last person the late sister saw before she committed suicide. We think he’s the murderer. I need your cooperation because you were the second last person the late sister wrote about in her journal.”

 

“You got her journal too, huh? Not bad for a rookie detective.”

 

That stung. Just a little. Akechi didn’t show it. He was silent. He worked with too many people like her.

 

“Why are you protecting him?” he asked her, mirroring his own question to Makoto.

 

“Because he didn’t do it?” she responded incredulously, “You have no proof he did. You’re simply going off of hypotheticals and a few journal entries that you can’t even _prove_ belong to the late sister.”

 

“Leave those details to me. Given what we’ve found - I haven’t told you all of it, by the way - we have enough to receive a warrant for his arrest. I’m giving you a chance to tell me what you know lest we arrest the wrong person.”

 

“Fine, it was me.”

 

“No it wasn’t.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

She was sick, something was terribly wrong with her. Hifumi was slipping.

 

“The way you’re defending him now is even more of an indicator for me. In 48 hours, Ren will be brought in for questioning, and given our evidence, he will be proven guilty without a doubt,” he said finally, “You’ve been very helpful.”

 

He got up, and Hifumi followed suit hurriedly.

 

“You can’t do that,” she hissed.

 

Akechi cocked his brow at her.

 

“I’m confessing,” she continued.

 

“I’ll bring you on as a witness then.”

 

“I’m telling you right now that I did it!”

 

“I don’t believe you,” he sighed, “Goodbye, Sister.”

 

He moved around her to leave.

 

“I’d worry more about your little girlfriend than Ren or me,” Hifumi said quickly.

 

Akechi wavered for a moment at the _title_.

 

“You’re grasping,” he responded.

 

“Ever wonder why she’s so hellbent on trying to solve this case?”

 

“I do. But it has nothing to do with-”

 

“I’d think a little harder. Think about how she’s been able to get into contact with you. You’ll find what you’re looking for there,” Hifumi said.

 

She picked up the pieces to the chessboard and left. Akechi could’ve left without considering what she had just said. It didn’t change the fact that it bothered him.

 

\------

 

Akechi didn’t know how, but somehow in a daze between reality and nightmare, he had encountered Makoto’s room. His dreams had misled him - there was nothing special about that hall where he chased her before devouring her. It was simply an old building renovated into sleeping quarters, clearly not up to the standards. He had a feeling he would’ve found her in her room.

 

It was interesting to note that all the rooms were unlocked and left wide open. The nuns had no belongings so there was nothing to hide. One of the rooms near the end of the hall were closed.

 

He knocked.

 

There was a tentative shuffle of sounds before a long pause. He waited a minute before he attempted to knock again. Akechi’s knuckle reached for the door to do so when it opened. Makoto popped her head out, looking frantically around.

 

“What are you doing here?!” she whispered.

 

“I came to report my findings,” he said plainly, “I think I ought to come in given what I’ve discovered.”

 

Makoto didn’t question him at that point.

 

Her room was quaint to say the least. There was nothing different about it from the others but there was a real sense of ‘Makoto’ in it that reminded him of her. He watched her adjust her headpiece before his eyes wandered to the journal by her desk, spine clearly used from heavy bending.

 

“I spoke to Hifumi,” he started, “She confesses to the murder.”

 

“It’s not her,” she pushed.

 

“I know. She’s ready to defend Ren at any given chance. We have 48 hours to get a warrant and bring him in.”

 

“Wait-“

 

“Makoto,” he said firmly, “He fits the profile no matter how much you don’t want to believe it.”

 

She stuffed down her disappointment.

 

“I don’t think we should do that just yet,” she said quietly.

 

“Give me a reason why.”

 

She shook her head.

 

“Makoto, why are you here?”

 

She thought about what he was asking her. She shook her head again as if it was a proper response.

 

“It’s going to be very dangerous the next two days in the convent. Not to say that I don’t trust you but you have a penchant for wandering into dangerous situations. I think it’s best if you can find somewhere to stay until the dust settles.”

 

“I won’t. I’m coming with you to the station to-“

 

“You’re not,” he said even more firmly, “Makoto, you’re not understanding what I’m saying. Ren is a murderer, a serial killer for all we know.”

 

“Where’s your evidence?!” she practically screamed.

 

“You tell me,” he responded.

 

“I… both of them are suspicious, I give you that. But you can’t just go arresting people that you think are-“

 

“I absolutely can. That’s how the law works and that’s how justice is served.”

 

“You want to talk to me about justice now?! Bringing innocent people in on a crime they didn’t commit?” she asked indignantly.

 

“If they’re innocent, the evidence will show that.”

 

“That’s not how it works. That’s not how Sis works,” she said quietly.

 

Akechi took a moment to process her turmoil. She touched her arm gently, a barrier between him and her.

 

“Please, you can’t.”

 

He knew she was in danger. He sensed Hifumi’s loyalty to Ren and the 48 hours was simply a message he planted for her to relay to Ren. He’d be on guard until then, most likely to slip up or go entirely into hiding. He’d want Makoto gone that’s for certain. She knew too much already.

 

Akechi changed his plan of action. He had to get her out of there.

 

“You have it in you, I don’t know why you can’t see that.”

 

It took a moment for Makoto to realize what he was talking about.

 

“Stop,” she hissed.

 

“You have a talent I can’t begin to describe. You’re wasting away doing... _this.”_

 

Makoto’s lip quivered slightly as she stood there watching him tell her this so _nonchalantly_ , as if his words weren’t already beginning to unravel everything she’d worked so hard to build for herself. He told her this like he _knew_ her.

 

“You don’t shrink away in fear, you hold your ground. I’ve never seen eyes like yours look at a scene so unwavering, and you-“

 

“You. You’ve been watching me…?”

 

Akechi closed his mouth, her eyes widening at the realization. He’d been more than watching her, he was _paying attention._ He latched onto her from the moment he laid eyes on her, and it was only obvious to her now. Some sort of secret obsession or whatever else he felt for her was not something she could afford. Makoto had worked hard for this life, leaving behind her sister and her wrath took strength. He would say otherwise.

 

“I think you should leave,” she said lowly.

 

“What are you so afraid of? Of some _man_ in the sky?” he pressed.

 

“Shut up-“

 

“I’m asking you. _Really_ asking you. You’re so tense,” he said gently, standing close to face her.

 

She squeezed her hands together as they searched for her rosary.

 

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he soothed, walking towards her cautiously as she inched backwards.

 

“No one can keep you here but yourself,” he continued.

 

She took another step back. He took another one forward.

 

“I know you’ve been hurt before, I know, trust me. I wouldn’t hurt you,” he continued quietly.

 

Another step back, another foot forward. Her back hit the door she locked. For some reason, she didn’t fight him anymore. She had no words to throw back in his face like she usually did. She’d been fighting this herself, and he was the first ally she’d ever encountered. He understood her like she expected no one to. Makoto couldn’t bear to look at him, the pain and resentment she felt now in the forefront of her mind - she feared that she’d be open like a book. He seemed so good at reading her, and she was terrible at reading him. Her eyes spoke all the truth he’d need to know, and for that, she was deathly afraid.

 

“Stop-”

 

“I can be gentle,” he dared, hand now close enough to brush against her arm.

 

“Stop, please,” she pleaded, her voice ragged when she could feel his breath against her cheek.

 

His heart hurt when he said the next part. Her safety was paramount.

 

“You could pretend I’m him,” he said flatly, his voice low and ever slightly amused.

 

Makoto felt her hand twitch, and she held her breath before exhaling raggedly. Her throat felt raw and she felt a shiver run up her spine at how angry she was and how she’d imagine taking out that anger.

 

“I wouldn’t mind,” he added quietly.

 

She was furious, her eyes couldn’t meet his, and she dare not open them as she sought to calm down. But she knew those sullen eyes bore into her skull. She gave herself time to think.

 

Ren, with his hooded eyes, and naturally curved mouth, entered her mind. She had a terrible imagination, but the words that Akechi said so loosely entered her mind, and she couldn’t _not_ think about it. He’d be gentle, probably, not that Makoto knew what that would be like. She didn’t know the first thing about what he could be implying, but she knew he’d be nothing like Akechi, who acted so callously until recently. His voice splintered whenever he spoke to her with not an ounce of kindness to accompany it, yet it made her all the more inclined to treat him like anyone else.

 

Though it became impossible. He became too available, his presence unavoidable while he continued his job.

 

He didn’t stop. And she did nothing to stop him. The room was so quiet, she swore his breathing matched the rhythm of her short breaths. He was dangerously close, and she realized in that moment she’d never been this close to any man before. She felt the leather of his gloves brush along the side of her waist and she flinched. The smallest whimper came from her throat, and she regretted it almost immediately. Her body was responding in a foreign way, and she could hardly keep up with the way her thighs seemed to tense up and press together.

 

“I won’t hurt you,” he said, eyes searching her avoidant ones, and his nose brushed against the side of her cheek.

 

_I won’t let them hurt you._

 

Makoto gasped quietly, as if God would hear. But there was no God. Not in this room. Not with how close he was to pressing his body against her aching one. She felt turmoil, a pool of confusion in the pit of her stomach, and sweat running down her neck invisibly. She felt as if she could sink into the door with how her body was pressed flush against it. Her breathing picked up when she felt the length of his hair brush against her neck, eliciting goosebumps all along her arms. She couldn’t bear it any longer, releasing the faintest and most strangled moan. Akechi’s breath hitched at the sound, and he growled quietly into her ear. He buried his face into the crook of her neck, his lips wavering from meeting her skin for fear that she’d _really_ push him away. Her arm reached out for him weakly, pushing against his chest as if that’d be enough to get him off of her.

 

He gave in.

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what… came over me,” he said wearily.

 

Her mind returned to his confession, feeling her stomach churn at his words.

 

“Those thoughts,” she said quietly, “Do I plague you so much?”

 

_Do you hate me so much?_

 

“You torture me,” he admitted.

 

_More. Tell me more._

 

“It hurts a lot of the time. It’s painful almost always. I can’t sleep or think properly,” he sighed against her neck, “Even now, I don’t know if I’m in a looped dream or if any of this is real.”

 

“It is real. I’m real.”

 

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he muttered, pulling back to look at her.

 

She knew. She knew that now. Why did he have to keep reminding her? She swallowed the lump in her throat, red eyes staring curiously at the way he was leaning over her. She gave no permission for him to kiss her, and yet the way his eyes pleaded, she knew. The same way she knew that she had wanted to kiss him for a while now too. His eyes glanced at her lips, and she took it as a sign to turn away.

 

“We can’t,” she said, sighing and turning her head just in time before his lips claimed hers.

 

“Why?”

 

Why indeed. For one, she wouldn’t know how to. For another, she wouldn’t know what to do after it had been all said and done. Police work. It was something her father used to do so faithfully, and in her younger years she looked up to him as any young girl would. Sae smashed what was left of her dream when he died. She turned to her studies, and then when her sister continued to brand her as useless, she left. Both her dreams and herself.

 

But she couldn’t tell him that.

 

“I can help you,” he coaxed her, “Please, let me-”

 

She wanted to ask what _help_ entailed, but it would only prove that she was interested in what he could provide. Hope. It meant she was hopeful, wanting, and wishing. Would he take her from this place? When she stared off into the distance, his hand clutched her cheek to bring her back to him. Her eyes squeezed shut at the gesture and he quickly released her. She unclenched herself the moment after, and her eyes met his now. There was a look in his eyes she had never seen before- it was like fire that danced around his pupils and she was the one fanning the flames. She’d never seen it before, but she knew it to be desire.

 

“Do you want me?” she asked.

 

As if the repetition wasn’t already killing him, he would tell her as plain as day. He watched her say those words, each syllable enunciated and sang so innocently inside his head. Makoto stood stunned and horrified at her remark. It had simply slipped out of her mouth like she’d been wanting to ask it for a very long time. Akechi didn’t give her a chance to clamp her hand over her mouth, he noticed her reaching and he slammed his lips against hers. They were soft albeit how hard he molded his body against hers, arm snaked between the door and the curve of her waist. Makoto didn’t kiss back, for one, she didn’t know how to. It was her first kiss. And another, she’d been too stunned by his actions to feel anything other than the rumble of his growls and the way he sighed into her mouth.

 

 _I won’t hurt you_ , he had said. He meant it, she felt it in the way he explored her mouth so carefully, _so afraid_ that she’d pull away.

 

 _I can be gentle_ , he coaxed. She felt that in the way his arm wound so tightly around her as if he’d never let her go, and yet his free hand brushed so delicately along what bare skin was exposed on her wrist. Makoto felt like she could faint as she melted into his kiss. She grew dizzy with want and her lips sought his in ways that she had only read about in fiction.

 

With her eyes closed, she pushed back any emotion she felt build up behind her lids, and blinked back whatever tears she felt coming. A part of her screamed at the chance for someone to save her from this hell hole, the other part of her prayed to the Man in the Sky that he’d make whatever she was feeling for Akechi go away and stay gone. But oh, how she wished he’d never stop kissing her. She wished for more than just that. Whatever else came after just kissing, she wanted him to show her all of it.

 

The Man in the Sky didn’t respond. And she muffled down the part of her that begged her to stay at the convent. The brush of his lips made her want to leave so badly.

 

And then he pulled away before that part of her was properly convinced. She tried hard to contain her breathing, causing her only to gasp even harder for air. Akechi watched her cheeks burn red, her eyes avert his seeking gaze, and he decided that she hid under the nun’s habit so not to tempt any human being. The innocent guise she put up was to push away all expectant eyes, he was sure of it now. He was like a moth to her flame, and he couldn’t stay away no matter how much it burned. She found a way to compel him even hiding under that guise, and he hadn’t been particularly drawn to _church girls_. Though with what he knew of her, she hardly could be considered one.

 

He wanted to kiss her again. His wish was granted when she leaned into him on her tiptoes and pressed her lips gently against his. It was the softest thing he’d ever felt, and he relished in the idea of kissing her with more fervor, though the thought left as quick as it came. She pulled away quickly, biting her lip and averting her gaze.

 

He pressed his cheek against her forehead as he held her close to his heart. The words that she’d spat at him didn’t come back again, and he relished in the quiet of her heart pounding. He wanted to tell her he wouldn’t abandon her, that he was sorry for everyone before him. But above all else, he wanted to tell her again how he wanted her, and watch her slink away like she always did so that he’d at least know he didn’t break her like everyone before her.

 

He pulled away from her, eyes scanning her face quizzically. She showed nothing for him to read. He responded truthfully.

 

“I want you,” he murmured softly, only hoping his words would reach her and she’d know that he meant them.

 

He wasted no time, and she appreciated that. And for the first time since he entered the sanctity of her room, she looked at him with eyes that melted his resolve, lips parted as if she’d run out of air to breathe. Her face was flushed and every fiber of Akechi’s being pushed and pulled on his desires. He dared to press his lips against her jaw, though he didn’t kiss her again. His lips traced lower, simply allowing his skin to feel her burning underneath him. Her breathing was vocal now, soft sighs and mewls escaped her lips whenever he inched too close for comfort. But his resolve broke finally when Makoto let out a whine when his lips grazed against the pulse along her neck. She’d unknowingly thrown her head back at the gesture, and even with her habit, Akechi’s lips mapped out what little surface of her neck was exposed.

 

He snapped away from his ministrations, clasped her face in his hands and kissed her hard. Makoto sighed against his mouth, so very confused and knowing little of what to do even with his guidance. Her facade crumbled, and there in his arms, laid her innocence- bare and untouched. She tempted him like a siren, surely knowing how tantalizing a challenge was for him. He swam out into open waters blindly and it had been only a matter of time before he felt her pull him to the deep end and drown him. And he was glad to do it.

 

How long he had wished and agonized for this very moment, Akechi wasn’t entirely sure. He was certain it would have never happened, and yet here he was with Makoto pinned to the door and his hands roaming along her hips pulling at the fabric that hid her body from him, but to no avail. Her hands were cold when they reached for his, trembling as she pushed him away gently. He pulled away in response to her plea, yet he saw her hands linger on his wrists and her arms pushing forward to follow the trace of his motion. Had she been pining for him, too?

 

An apology. He had to give one. He’d already pushed too far, and soon, if she hadn’t stopped him, Makoto would’ve been his undoing. It was still safe, they’d barely breached unsanctioned territory (in his mind), and hopefully she’d feel the same. They could still turn back. He had already said too much, and Lord knows she was receptive and malleable to those beautiful, empty words. Surely she’d be mistaking his affections to offset her emotional trauma and abuse, and for the first time, Akechi wasn’t sure if he was enough for her. And another, he wasn’t good for her either.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Her habit had almost toppled over and the length of her dress had wrinkles from where he had tugged. His lips were soft, seemingly expert when he kissed her. Makoto thought about that for a moment, and wondered how much experience he must have had before her when she had close to none. She wanted to slap herself for thinking for even a second she could get away from this place because someone from the outside would be willing to be there for her.

 

Sae wasn’t that person anymore. She changed. Makoto had no one and she certainly could not impose that on Akechi. The days were long and her life ahead of her would be a boring one, but she wouldn’t be lonely. Loneliness was a fear she felt like no other, only second to failure. She had failed her sister, and there was no way she could amend for that. Akechi was like a ripple in her life- he came in unexpected and all things that followed were both horrible and wonderful. But he’d fade away, he’d leave. That’s what all people do.

 

Tears pricked her eyes again and she allowed them to stain her face now that she was alone with no one as her witness, not even God.

 

“Tell me,” he said carefully, “Tell me you’ll come with me.”

 

Makoto scanned his eyes fearfully, pain and fear still lingering in the back of her mind like a tumor. Her eyes widened when he squeezed her wrist. She felt herself start to unravel, knots beneath her abdomen pulled tight when his free hand reached for the part of her habit around her neck.

 

“No-”

 

“Say it,” he said slowly, “Say you will.”

 

She wanted to. She knew above all things, that she wanted to, that this part of her was just as fake as the her that ran away from Sae that night. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes and then flowed down the sides of her face. She couldn’t say it. Everything would become a reality.

 

**_Find your own justice._ **

 

A little voice used to tell her that. It never stopped actually.

 

**_Have you decided to tread the path of strife?_ **

 

Yes. The right cheek that bore the slap of Sae that night started to sting again.

 

He wove his fingers between hers, the leather of his gloves separating them still. So close yet so far. They weren’t finished yet.

 

“Makoto,” he said carefully, “Tell me you didn’t do it.”

 

She froze.

 

“What?”

 

“Convince me you’re not the murderer.”

 

“Akechi, it’s not me.”

 

He inhaled.

 

“Show me your phone,” he said plainly.

 

He saw her purse her lips for a moment. She didn’t oblige immediately, shaking her head.

 

“You don’t have anything to hide, do you? You just brought your phone with you to the convent, Makoto.”

 

Makoto was extremely hesitant.

 

“Show me.”

 

He pulled away from caving in her body when he saw her shift. She walked past him to her bedside. Bending down, she pulled the box from under her bed like she had many nights before. Akechi eyed her actions carefully, breath hitching when he saw the silhouette of the gun raveled in fabric to hide its obviousness. But he’d recognize that anywhere. Makoto slipped her phone out of the box to show him.

 

“Makoto, that’s a gun.”

 

Her eyes widened and her legs were shaking. He had saw. They stood there for a moment, both speechless and not knowing what to do.

 

Akechi was the first to break the silence.

 

“Niijima Makoto, you’re under arrest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> babby’s first kiss!
> 
> Also- I was notified that there’s a magoro server here: https://discord.gg/mH8hgTP. Check it out if you can! I’m not in it but I hear it’s tons of fun.


	15. Chapter 15

Makoto couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so humiliated. She didn’t budge nor resist when Akechi asked her to come with him willingly lest he’d bring out the handcuffs she knew he tucked away in his case. It’d be one less scene they’d have to make in front of the other nuns. He couldn’t help but feel slightly suspicious and fearful at the same time when he asked her to hand him the box, gun in tact. She did as he said. He’d recognize it anywhere, just the standard pistol all police were given in their line of duty. He only briefly thought about where she might have obtained it and then focused on the fact that she had it to begin with. 

 

Akechi apologized for doing his job and only for a split second did Makoto consider drop kicking him and making a run for it. But he knew her sister, he knew her, he knew too much. He recovered from distraught and his eyes were sullen when he finally turned to face her, reciting her rights as a formality with no personalization. He was quick to call in for backup, and by the time he had ushered her out of the room and off the church grounds, there was a small scene by the gates. The nuns were surprised a police car had arrived, assuming it was nothing at first. Only when the police had exited the car, came around and cuffed Makoto, did they realize what was happening. None of them tried to stop what was going on. 

 

Akechi grimaced when the cop frisked her, pressing her to the vehicle as they searched her for anything that she might be concealing. The entire time, Makoto was silent, obedient and unwavering. Akechi had turned the gun in as evidence and kept her phone with him. They asked him if he was riding in with them, in which he promptly rejected. In a flash, he could sense Makoto’s absolute disdain for him. He felt his heart break at the sight of her, hoping one day she’d come to forgive him. She was a Niijima and somehow he knew that it would be something he’d have to win over and over again. She may never speak to him again. He couldn’t face her when they took her away. 

 

He pulled out his phone as the car drove off, calling in his own to pick him up. He only had 48 hours.

 

———

 

The cell was not as Makoto had imagined. She had begged her father to take her to visit one in her naïveté in which he firmly refused after explaining to her how terrible the conditions were. He never wanted her to find herself in a cell. She was being detained as a suspect but given her circumstances she wouldn’t be interrogated unless she asked for a lawyer- she bypassed that right. She had nothing to hide. Perplexed at her response, the police had no choice but to call in the prosecutor for the following day. She’d sleep in the cell that night. After all, there was no sense of urgency for the case that had since been ruled a suicide. 

 

There was something quiet and quaint about the cell. Only after a long silence where she could finally hear her breathing plateau and she knew she was alone could she have the option to scream. Makoto knew better than that- she was obedient and always had been. She’d answer the prosecutor’s questions tomorrow and she’d be released. She was innocent after all.

 

Upon inspection of the cell, one thing became increasingly apparent to her: how the layout of the bed and that of the small amenities seemed extremely similar to that of her room back at the convent. She sat on the edge of the bed, her mind going through what she’d say the following day to the prosecutor. After hours of doing this, her thoughts finally arrived at Akechi. She couldn’t help but feel angry obviously but she felt pity for him as well. She could feel his unspoken pain when he choked out her rights, and for some unknown reason she felt a wave of nostalgia hit her. 

 

The reluctance in his voice reminded her of the last time she saw her father. Somehow, he knew it was their last moment together and he had no proper way of conveying it to her. Akechi was the same. There was no goodbye. 

 

Night had arrived and Makoto had memorized the patterns of the stucco on the wall, the blank white of it finally making her sleepy. Her fingers swiped through the balls on her rosary for comfort, but she found that the moment the lights went out for curfew, she was alone and in despair. 

 

Somewhere between the time of meeting Akechi and now, she had overcome her instinct to cry. Even with every wave of emotion she felt towards Akechi- anger, love, indignance, longing- she couldn’t seem to cry about it like she used to. There was nothing worse than the fact that she wouldn’t be there to defend neither Ren nor Hifumi when he’d come for their arrest. 

 

She sat with these thoughts for a moment. Had she gone so long with the doubt in her mind that these were good people? Why had she denied her gut feelings and any sense of logic? Makoto decided she’d been poisoned by the church for far too long. Her brows furrowed as she gripped the rosary in her hand. In her heart, she knew Akechi was right. 

 

The lights went on- clear and distinct clicks on the floor became louder and louder. She sat up preemptively, anticipating what the worst could be.

 

———

 

Akechi arrived at the church unarmed. He had asked that the police stay nearby, but undetected. To their chagrin, they did as he requested. 

 

It was obvious that something was wrong- not a soul was to be seen. He felt sick for a moment, contemplating if he should be requesting backup. There was an almost ominous nature to the church grounds when it was almost dark. He was running on no sleep for the last two days since Makoto’s arrest- throwing himself into writing up the request for a warrant, nodding off at his desk. He knew exactly where she was, which cell number, and when she’d be released. He knew she was safe and everything else he’d deal with in the aftermath of Ren’s arrest. 

 

He showed up at the study first, and after no sign of Ren anywhere, he went to the sleeping quarters. Alarms went off in his body finally when he noted that the door to it was bolted shut. His heart raced when he realized the nuns were put on lockdown. They knew he was here. 

 

He ran to the church, speaking quickly into his phone about the situation at hand. In odd and predictable fashion, his call cut out before he’d given any further orders to the police waiting out front. ‘No Service.’ 

 

_ Fuck. _

 

Akechi doubted himself for a split second, wishing Makoto was with him. These were holy people- he hoped- how dangerous could they be? Her influence had snuck up on him, and he foolishly arrived at the doors of the church, unarmed, fully expecting Ren to come with him willingly. 

 

When he opened the doors, completely surprised to find them unlocked, he was greeted with the most unsavory scene. 

 

“Detective,” came the smooth and feminine voice of Hifumi.

 

He really wished he had a gun right now. 

 

Ren was slumped on the floor, head bleeding from what was obviously blunt trauma. Akechi’s eyes read the situation quickly, following the traces of blood that were on the barrel of the gun in Hifumi’s hand. No obvious blood had gotten on her habit given the color of the fabric, but the smell became almost too much to bear as he got closer. Ren let out a small noise, luckily alive. 

 

“I told you I did it, didn’t I?” she smiled sadly, “I can’t believe you didn’t believe me.”

 

Akechi knew she was sick, and there was something entirely off about the situation at hand. He couldn’t think of anything besides the fact that it just didn’t seem right. He wished he had a gun very badly. Left foot first, he walked down the aisle of the church. 

 

“Hifumi, put the gun down,” he ordered. 

 

Her body reacted for a split second, almost responding to his order, and then remembered. 

 

“I wasn’t going to kill him,” she said quietly. 

 

Akechi put his hands up when he was halfway to them. 

 

“Hifumi,” he said carefully, “You’re not in trouble. I don’t believe you did it.”

 

“Stop saying that!” she cried, “I’m so tired of you thinking I’m some innocent nun!”

 

Ren writhed in pain, blood dripping down his forehead even now. Hifumi alternated between pointing the gun at Ren and Akechi. 

 

“I did this. I gave you a chance to take me in but you didn’t! And now look where we are,” she said desperately. 

 

“Hifumi-“

 

“You took Makoto like I told you to,” she finally said, “I can’t believe you did.”

 

Only when she started giggling maniacally did Akechi feel afraid. He couldn’t make out what was going on, his brain running in circles as he considered all the possibilities that led up to this point. 

 

“You tricked me,” he said plainly as if he knew all along. 

 

“Was I wrong?” she asked.

 

“No, and now Makoto’s in a cell waiting for you to come clean so she can be freed.”

 

“You know I don’t care about that,” she sneered.

 

“Why did you do it? The murder?” 

 

Hifumi smiled devilishly, igniting a chill up Akechi’s spine. Her face warped into that of wickedness and clear sadness.

 

“Isn’t it obvious, detective?” she finally said, lowering her gun. 

 

Akechi couldn’t feel his body, couldn’t move. Ren got up from the floor seemingly as if the injury had been nothing, shaking the length of his bangs from his eyes. Averting his gaze from the detective entirely, his eyes met Hifumi’s. She continued smiling, turning to Ren lovingly as she handed him the gun she had so clearly used against him. Only then did everything become so blatantly obvious to Akechi. 

 

And he had come unarmed.

 

Ren gave her a proud smile, taking the cold pistol from her hand and pointed it right on her forehead. She simply looked up at him, anticipating it all.

 

“Ren-“ Akechi started firmly. 

 

“I did as you said,” Hifumi said sweetly.

 

“Then you know what comes next,” he said mimicking her tone.

 

A single loud gunshot echoed throughout the church. Hifumi’s body fell to the ground unceremoniously, head hitting the step before sulking in a inhumanly position on the floor. Akechi doubted she felt any pain, the bullet going straight through her skull, but the pained and gentle smile still plastered on her face was so off putting. It was only the second time Akechi had witnessed a murder happening right before his eyes. He kept his frame as Ren turned to him. The priest had no reason not to kill him as he did with Hifumi, but his gaze softened when he looked upon Akechi. 

 

“If you must know,” he started solemnly, “She was the only one I killed.”

 

“You were a murderer even before you killed her,” Akechi said coldly. 

 

Ren ignored his comment, cocking the gun. 

 

“I would say if she simply hadn’t wandered into my affairs then perhaps she’d still be alive, and perhaps I wouldn’t have been party to a murder. But as you can see, I seem to have a knack for it,” Ren continued. 

 

He was talking about the initial murder. Akechi eyed him inquisitively. 

 

“You want to know what happened,” he said plainly, “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you. You won’t live to repeat it after all- Actually, you might.”

 

Akechi listened to the priest spew his story. 

 

“She’d seen too much. Was that helpful?” 

 

Akechi took a step forward carefully, stopping when Ren pointed the gun towards him. 

 

“And what did the sister see?” Akechi pressed carefully. 

 

“He was of consenting age, if you’re curious,” Ren said in amusement.

 

The detective felt his entire body go numb as if the gun itself was pointed at his bare skin, barrel pressed coldly to him. 

 

_ What’s your relationship with Ren? _ he had asked Hifumi only a few days before. 

 

_ He’s not interested in those kinds of relationships. He’s a priest, and I’m a nun,  _ she had replied in equal amusement. 

 

_ Your interactions- _

 

_ More or less like any other nun here _ .

 

“You’re…-“

 

“A sinner? A homosexual? Gay? What’s your favorite terminology, detective?” Ren asked, unwilling to go on without an answer. 

 

“The sister saw you.”

 

“Indeed she did. You must be so smart. I’m sure you might have figured it out eventually even if I went to burn those journals of hers. Still, who would’ve thought I left such a mark on her that she’d have to write about it.”

 

“You know about the journals.”

 

“Only when Makoto told me,” Ren snided. 

 

Manipulative bastard. 

 

“She’s in love with you, you know. It’s quite obvious and painful to watch,” Ren continued, “Maybe if she wasn’t so nosy then she’d be the one on the floor now.”

 

Akechi felt his blood boil. The damned priest assumed Makoto might have fallen victim to him, taking on the burden of his crimes. 

 

“Even if she wasn’t, she’d never side with you,” Akechi said defensively. 

 

“If there’s one thing I’m not particularly good at it’s convincing women I might someday return their feelings,” Ren laughed lowly, “If I was however, you’d be no match.”

 

Akechi decided not to contemplate on the validity of that. 

 

“Time’s up, Ren-“

 

“I’m not finished. Don’t you want to know how Hifumi did it? Perks of sleeping with a diener, by the way, is that they’ve got all these tricks up their sleeves on how to get away with murder and then completely disappear. You should pick the brain of one sometime.”

 

“You’re sick,” Akechi blurted out.

 

“It was an axe, in case you’re curious. You won’t find it now but I was surprised how well Hifumi was able to pull it off,” Ren said fondly, “until the end.”

 

Akechi stayed silent. 

 

“I told her to make it look like an accident. Lo and behold, the sister fell into the well and it really did become an accident. So like I said, I didn’t do it. That’s a few layers of being removed from murder, isn’t it?” Ren asked.

 

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re a murderer.”

 

“I think we’d make a great team,” Ren offered, ignoring his claim once more. 

 

“What are you suggesting?” Akechi asked slowly. 

 

“I always did have a thing for men of the law,” Ren offered.

 

Akechi took a moment to process what he was saying. 

 

“I know how we could disappear,” Ren said suggestively.

 

“You’re not my type,” Akechi smirked, “There’s only room for one psychopath in the relationship.

 

“That’s too bad. I was quite fond of you,” Ren said sadly.

 

They stood quietly for a moment. Ren finally realized within their vicinity that Akechi had arrived unarmed. For a moment, he considered how unsatisfactory it’d be to kill an unarmed man. The thought came and went like a gust of wind. He’d disappear and the detective won’t live to tell what happened.

 

“Goodbye, detective.” 

 

Akechi clenched his jaw watching Ren pull the trigger. All the pain he had ever felt in the years of abuse he faced in foster homes seemed like nothing all of a sudden. The waves of the whip along his arm, bruises down his back and cuts all over were nothing compared to this pain. There was a loud ringing in his ears, so loud he swore it would be the only thing he could hear for the rest of his short life. The pain was more than he could bear, and he found himself on the cold of the floor, reminiscent of the nights he laid in the bathroom. 

 

The last thing he thought about was Makoto before his eyelids felt heavy. Perhaps he’ll wake up on the other side even with all the sins he bore, and she’d be waiting for him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> (jk please don’t kill me)
> 
> I forgot to post this in the last chapter but there’s a magoro server! Feel free to join, I hear it’s a lot of fun: https://discord.gg/mH8hgTP


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so i murder love in the night, watching them fall one by one  
> did you think you'll love me too?

There was no pain to compare to what he felt. An unknown magnitude of agony ran through his body like he could have never imagined. Only after moments of choking out blood onto the floor of the perfect church marble did Akechi realize he was shot from behind. He groaned softly, turning his body at limited pivot to see the culprit. The shell of the bullet fell to the ground, a sound he would never forget, hitting the marble once, ricocheting once, and then rolling towards his feet. There was obvious smoke coming out of the end of the barrel, and Akechi decided to be mesmerized by it for a moment as he suffered through the pain. He didn’t want to face the fact that Makoto was the one holding the gun on the other end. He didn’t want to face the fact that Makoto was the one who shot him.

 

Only when he found the strength to look her in the eyes did he see her usual bright red eyes glossed over. Her lips were held straight as she returned his stare, gaze unforgiving and hand clutching the gun in her hand like she meant to shoot him. She intended to hurt him.

 

 _I won’t hurt you. I won’t let them hurt you_ , he had told her, heart open to her. She returned the favor by crushing it in her palm with ease. Makoto’s arm didn’t tremble as if she were seasoned in hurting him. She never lowered the gun, fully intending to fire again if he were to move. With her left hand, she reached for the length of her habit on her head. Fingers tugged on it with ease, pulling it off her head from behind. Time seemed to slow as she made her reveal, Akechi’s eyes watching her shake her short chin-length hair free from the headpiece. Those fantasies and dreams that taunted him in his sleep of what she hid underneath dissolved. Makoto freed herself from the religious garment, throwing it all away. She didn’t look to Akechi anymore. Her eyes opened once more, now looking to Ren.

 

With Ren at the altar, Akechi in the middle of the church, and Makoto at the entrance, they made their final face off. Ren smiled softly, looking at her before him as she walked towards the both of them. She walked past Akechi, not a single look of reassurance to show it had all been a ploy and she was here to save him. Only when her heels clicked by as she walked through did he realize he had been betrayed.

 

Ren seemed to welcome her with open arms, sensing the resolve in her eyes. She lowered the gun finally when she arrived next to him. Akechi looked up at the both of them. A match made in heaven as they stood staring at his poor fate.

 

“Time’s up, detective,” Ren repeated, pointing his gun once more.

 

Makoto wordlessly pushed the barrel away from the target. She murmured that she wanted to do it.

 

“Let me. He tried to put me in prison for a crime I didn’t commit. This is the least I can do to return the favor,” she said venomously.

 

Ren let out a surprised chuckle, never anticipating she had it in her.

 

“I wouldn’t have imagined you’d be anything like this. You were blessed with rage, Makoto. Use it,” he gave her permission.

 

Makoto cocked the gun once more, pointing it to Akechi’s head. Even at a distance, he knew that she didn’t intend to miss.

 

“Makoto-” he coughed, “I did it for you.”

 

“Did you?” she sneered, “Did you ever care about me?”

 

“I did!” he cried, “I _loved_ you.”

 

He saw her twitch, a small tremble in her fingers as she reached for the trigger.

 

“You were always in it for yourself,” she said simply, “I’ve finally found my own justice.”

 

Akechi grit his teeth at her response, tears running down his face as he faced her. Pain in his shoulder doubling from where she had shot him once before. This time, it was for good.

 

“I’ll never lose sight of it again,” she said, tilting her head up to look at Akechi, “Ren.”

 

Her fingers loosened around the grip, and in one swift motion, Makoto punched the blunt end of the revolver right into the back of Ren’s skull.

 

\-----

 

_The heavy steel door to the prison opened. Lucky for her, Makoto was facing right towards the door. She wouldn’t be surprised now if she was the only inhabitant with how quiet it was._

 

_Sae walked in, eyes wide and hurt as she saw her little sister now in the cell before her. The guard that had accompanied her closed the door for them. Makoto bit her lip as Sae pulled up a chair to face the bars of her cell._

 

_“Long time no see,” she sighed after a long silence._

 

_“Yes,” Makoto agreed._

 

_It was awkward, and then silent once more._

 

_“I didn’t believe them,” Sae started finally, “I could hardly recognize you the first time I saw you in that hall. How could one of my colleagues tell it was you?”_

 

_“They took my prints,” Makoto said simply, running her hand through her hair nervously, “Took my pictures. Saw my name. Not that hard.”_

 

_Sae stuffed a laugh at her response._

 

_“I suppose that’s one way,” she agreed, crossing her leg over the other as she crossed her arms, “I guess you’re going to be asking for our lawyer.”_

 

_“No, I thought I’d represent myself, actually,” Makoto said._

 

_Sae nodded, proud almost. She watched her sister get up from the bed, running her fingers along the bars before wrapping her hand around one._

 

_“Akechi’s in trouble,” she said quietly._

 

_“Akechi?”_

 

_Makoto nodded._

 

_“He did it to protect me-”_

 

_“Why am I not surprised?” Sae groaned._

 

_“He’s gone to confront them. I know for certain now.”_

 

_“Them?”_

 

_“Long story. The church.”_

 

_“... He went alone.”_

 

_Makoto couldn’t breathe._

 

_“It’s even more imperative then that I get to him,” Makoto urged._

 

_“If I’m doing anything, I’m sending a police squadron there right away-”_

 

_“Sis. I have to do this. I have to. You can send them if you want but I’m going in after him. If this priest is as dangerous as Akechi and I have discovered, he’ll be killed if an entire police squad goes in.”_

 

_“You’ve thought about this,” Sae noted, “What would have happened if I hadn’t shown up?”_

 

_Makoto stifled back her tears, pressing her forehead against the bars as she listened to her sister speak to her for the first time as her equals._

 

_“I knew in my heart that you would,” she sobbed, choking out her words, “I just knew.”_

 

_Sae pursed her lips, untangled her limbs and reached out to her sister. Her fingers were cold, but Makoto knew it was Sae all the same. She clutched her in return, holding onto her hand like they did once as children._

 

_“I’m sorry,” Sae started, “I’m sorry for everything. Everything.”_

 

_Makoto looked up to watch the silent tears strip through her sister’s makeup. She had long forgiven here. There was nothing to be sorry for. She learned forgiveness through someone she would have never expected, not the church._

 

_“We’re running out of time,” Makoto reminded her, “We’ll have time to talk after all of this.”_

 

_“I can’t let you go alone,” Sae pressured._

 

_“You don’t have to,” Makoto said softly._

 

_“But I will,” Sae replied._

 

_Makoto looked up at her sister._

 

_“I’ll do the paperwork and you go. If you don’t come back…. Just come back. Please,” Sae said quietly._

 

_Makoto smiled through her tears. She nodded, as if she knew she would. She had to. Sae turned to the door to leave and then stopped._

 

 _“One more thing,” she started to say, reaching for something in her purse._   


\------

 

The years of aikido led up to this somehow. Makoto was fully surprised that Ren had slumped onto the floor unconscious when she hit him on his pressure point. She reached down to feel for his pulse, knowing they didn’t have long before he’d wake. Makoto looked to Akechi once more, her eyes sullen and apologetic. She watched him get up, clutching his shoulder painfully as he made his way to her. She walked to him in tandem with his steps, ready for whatever repercussion that would come.

 

“I’m s-”

 

He crushed his lips to hers, and there was nothing more to say. His arms wrapped around her body and he pressed the side of his cheek to her shoulder. For a moment longer, he sobbed like they were the only two in the world. Makoto closed her eyes, feeling his warmth against her for the first time properly. Akechi’s fingers sought hers, intertwining with her own as if they were lovers.

 

“I didn’t really expect your confession to be like that but,” Makoto said, breaking the silence, “I guess it’ll be an interesting story to tell.”

 

Akechi stifled a laugh at her lightheartedness.

 

“I had already confessed to you before that,” he told her, hand on the back of her neck as he leaned in to kiss her once more.

 

“When?”

 

“Everyday for many days,” he confessed sheepishly.

 

Makoto looked up at him in surprise, the flash of the sirens outside of the gates of the church now lighting up her face. The police were coming.

 

“I have a confession too,” Makoto said quietly.

 

He pulled away from ghosting her lips to look at her seriously. She smirked.

 

“Rubber bullet,” was all she said.

 

Akechi blinked at her before frowning.

 

“Then why does it hurt like hell? How did you get here, where did you get the gun, the like. You have a lot to confess.”

 

“Sae, Sae, and because you’re not as thick-skinned as you think you are,” she teased, answering his questions out of order.

 

He released her reluctantly, looking to her for reassurance once more. She smiled up at him as he reeled in her confession.

 

“One more thing,” she said finally, “Since I won’t be able to tell you for a while. I love you.”

 

Akechi let out a sigh of relief, enveloping her once more with his arms as he held her tight. The lights behind them painted the church in some surreal way.

 

\------

 

They were left to their own devices. The ambulances had dispersed, taking their howling sirens with them and the _victims_ it held inside. The policemen had ended their shifts, grunting quietly in disappointment at their long hours without a proper shootout in the end to spike their excitement. In the end, it was Makoto and Akechi in the quiet of the church. In the dark, blood splattered on the floor and the rims of the seats, they ignored what had unfolded there only a few hours before. If not for the smell, they would’ve thought it romantic.

 

He thought about the way she held that pistol. Solid form, fingers along the groove of the side, ready for the trigger. Her shoulder, elbow, nor arm had even an ounce of a tremble in it. Makoto had fired once into the floor, ensuring she would harm nobody, and triggered both Akechi and Ren to look in her direction. Her brows were narrowed forward, and by the time they’d shot their heads to her, she had cocked the gun again, a sure sign that her pistol was ready. In that moment, Akechi had never been more attracted to her. She had the solidity of a lawful woman once he learned of her ploy- one that held a gun for reason, for purpose, and intent. He felt his heart jump just at the thought of it again. _Her justice_.

 

Makoto stood in front of him, facing him now. Dirt lined the outside of her habit such that one wash would do it barely any good. Her pistol was gone, she couldn’t hurt him. And there was no tremor in her hand, just as he thought. It was as if she was born for this. His eyes drifted tiredly across her face, trying half-heartedly to read her expression, but he was so tired. She approached him like she would any other time. Like they hadn’t just convicted a murderer. Like they hadn’t just witnessed a murder in a church. She thought about the late sister once more, grimacing at the thought that her justice couldn’t have been brought more cleanly.

 

In the quiet of the church, her heels rang true once more as she stepped towards him, perusing the church for the last time as they closed off the perimeter, each step with a second calculated in between. It was seven seconds by the time she reached him and had her lips pressed against his again hungrily. Makoto wasted no time with idle kisses along the cheek, or along his jaw like he envisioned in his dreams. Akechi didn’t know if he liked this more or not, but he thought very little of it the moment he felt the softness of her velvet tongue run along the bottom of his lips. He caved, opening for her to explore. She did so lazily, and Akechi kissed her in return with twice the fervor to make up for it. It wasn’t their first kiss, and in a split moment, he regretted that it wasn’t. The fireworks that would’ve gone off in the background to celebrate the murder case that she solved would’ve been perfect. Detective and cop.

 

Instead, Makoto kissed like she had kissed before. Her hands reached for his face and caressed his jaw with her thumbs like she had done this before. Even with the practice he had in his dreams, Akechi was unprepared. He was too afraid to speak, for fear of ruining something.

 

When she pulled away, it took every restraint in his body to show her he hadn’t thought about her innocently, and all the nights that plagued him that he longed to make come true once and for all. He looked at her with enough confusion for her to know he was asking her why. Why him? She answered with her eyes, you know why.

 

Truth was, he didn’t. So he kissed her again just to make sure this was what she wanted. He pulled away to choke up blood. For some reason, he coughed up from the shot earlier.

 

“Makoto, I- It hurts.”

 

Her eyes widened, knowing for certain the first bullet she had placed into the revolver was a rubber one for sure. She held onto Akechi as he fell on top of her, clutching onto her weakly for support.

 

“Akechi…? Akechi!”

 

He passed out, body and eyes heavy once more. Makoto struggled to pull him out of the church.

  
_Goro_.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wake up, get up, get out there

Akechi felt warmth, an unfamiliar feeling given how long that winter seemed to be. Unbeknownst to him, he was dreaming a dream he longed not to wake from. The sun seemed to taunt him, rays so bright that his eyes watered for a moment when he tried to open them. He quickly turned away from what appeared to be a window with a vase of freshly cut flowers. Attempting to shift his body, he found that there were arms latched around his waist and the heat of another by his side. He dare not turn to look, for fear of who he had assumed to be Makoto would disappear. He simply laid there, basking in the sun and her in his arms. The room wasn’t one he had recognized, and for a split second he wondered if he had gone to heaven- a place when he was alone with her. 

 

“Makoto,” he spoke just to feel her name on his tongue, just to see if any of this was real.

 

He felt her twitch at the sound of her name, body hearing upwards for a moment to let out a sigh. She was fast asleep. Akechi dared to turn and face her finally, her face as he had remembered it last in the church. Dirt lining the white of her habit’s collar, bangs in a disarray from when she had revealed herself to him for the first time. He turned away to analyze the room, only to find that everything was fuzzy and out of focus, leaving him nauseous. He looked down- Makoto the only thing in focus. 

 

“Am I dreaming?” he asked her.

 

“Mhmm,” she hummed lazily, “You have been for a while.”

 

He couldn’t deny that, though he questioned how dream Makoto knew. 

 

“Am I alive?” he asked reluctantly, wary of her respond. 

 

“I don’t know. Would you like to be?” she asked in turn.

 

“This isn’t too bad,” he admitted. 

 

“Then stay,” she said, sighing softly as she readjusted her arms around him. 

 

“I don’t think I can as much as I’d like to,” he said quietly, fingers reaching around her small frame to feel her hair. 

 

“This isn’t so bad,” she repeated his claim. 

 

“It’s not. But you’re meant to wake up from dreams,” he told her. 

 

He could feel her arms squeeze around him tighter at his reply, anticipating him to leave. 

 

“You could stay. It’s all up to you,” she said quietly.

 

Akechi suddenly got the sense that he was gambling with his life in real-time and the Makoto by his bedside waiting for him to wake up could soon be greeted with disappointment. At least, he had hoped she would be there if he were to wake. 

 

“We could be like this forever. Didn’t you tell me once before? That you didn’t want to wake up?” dream Makoto reminded him. 

 

“I created you in place of what I couldn’t have,” he realized, “Sorry.”

 

“I don’t mind. There’s not much nuance to me unless you wanted there to be,” she shrugged, eyes opening for the first time to look at him. 

 

He looked away, eyes glossy and guilty if he stared at her for too long. 

 

“I like the one with nuance. The one that doesn’t just go along with everything I say or want,” he replied, thinking briefly about what awaited him when he awoke.

 

He wondered for a moment about provoking her. What kind of end would he meet? This was his dream after all.

 

“You simply need to wish nuance on me and I could become her.”

 

“That’s the thing. She’s unpredictable. At times. Predictable most of the time, but you wouldn’t compare even to her predictability,” he said sadly, smiling fondly at what memories were slowly fading. 

 

“It seems you’re in love with her,” the girl next to him said robotically. 

 

“I might have been for a long time. Given they were feelings of infatuation for half of that time,” he said slowly. 

 

Dream Makoto released him, body evaporating and reappearing next to the window. She seemed to be tending the flowers there, rearranging them in no particular order. He could feel the warmth fading, even as she turned to smile at him sweetly.

 

“I’m sorry,” he told her wearily, “I’d like to wake up now.”

 

“You’ve been meaning to come here for a while,” she reminded him.

 

It took a moment for him to process what she meant, realizing she was implying about his attempted suicides in the past.

 

“Something came up,” he said, smirking slightly. 

 

She looked at him inquisitively, wondering what it might have been even at the obviousness of what it was. He wondered when his dreams had manifested into the beast of a negotiator.

 

“And what if that  _ something  _ were to disappear? Will you come back?” she asked hopefully. 

 

“I don’t ever want to come back if what’s waiting for me will always be there,” he riddled. 

 

She seemed to understand. 

 

“I see,” she said, pondering whether or not it would be acceptable. He knew there wasn’t much thinking going on. 

 

She gave him a look of longing, and then the flowers faded. She turned to black and white first, and then she, too, turned to dust. The warmth was gone now, and he was cold. It wasn’t anything like he had ever experienced- an all-over feeling that could only mean death within grasp. He closed his eyes to shut out the terrors of this feeling often administered to him near the end of his attempts. Only this time, he wanted to wake up. So he did. 

 

———

 

The green line made Makoto’s vision blur. She stared at it like she was under hypnosis, but she knew she had every means to snap out of it and accept that Akechi was not only dead, but she was the one that had killed him. 

 

The doctors confirmed the rubber bullet had made contact with him without a point of insertion, but it had come so narrowly close to that of an internal organ that the rate of fatality had gone up. He had a history of heart problems- who would’ve known- body weak and susceptible due to malnourishment at a young age, likely from the low standards of the foster homes he was passed around in. But Makoto hadn’t known that. 

 

When the line had dropped, flatlining, Makoto could only hear the silence around her save for the unsettling beep that had wouldn’t stop. The doctors around her rushed in slow motion to his body, and all she could do was watch like she always had. All the times that her peers were met with unfairness and injustice at school, and knowing she was the only one who could’ve done something about it- she only watched from behind the glass like she did now. She could’ve done something about it, but she didn’t. Only in this moment as the doctor declared Akechi’s death and time, did she realize all the times she could’ve done something. 

 

She didn’t have the emotions to cry, only the ability to consult where she had gone wrong. Maybe it had been her entire life- one huge fuck up that she was too afraid to confront. Makoto felt Sae’s hand on her shoulder but it wasn’t enough. She could’ve ran in there, been emotional and beg for him to come back. But it was a deal between Akechi and whatever entity, one she also came close to dealing with. It was out of her hands, and until then, she couldn’t breathe. He was gone. Seconds passed and she was too afraid to count them as they added up to minutes. Minutes would turn to hours, she knew. Hours to days, days to months, and then years, forever. 

 

Only when that thought had overcome her did she feel lightheaded. She hadn’t slept since her arrest, and then when Akechi had been hospitalized. Sae’s hand slipped off her shoulder as she yelled out her name. Only when the pain of the hard, cold floor against her skull did she register once and for all what she had done. She closed her eyes, hoping for what would come next most of all. She didn’t want to wake up. 

 

———

 

Makoto knew she was in a dream the moment she woke up, for she dreamed so infrequently, it had to be one. That, and the fact that she was back at the convent. The church was quiet, a sight she experienced so little of the time that only in her dream did she realize how peaceful it was. A feeling of dread and panic overcame her when she remembered she was dreaming, and she pulled at the heavy doors behind her in her attempt to leave. They’d take his body away in the time that she’s stuck in her dream. He’d be gone forever. 

 

“Niijima Makoto,” the smooth voice of detective prince, Akechi Goro, erupted from behind her, “Even in your dreams you’re trying to run away from me.”

 

She turned slowly to the voice that greeted her. He stood at the altar, his demeanor just as she had remembered him, snarky and unfazed by the obvious wound on his shoulder. Makoto turned away from the door to run to him and leap into his arms. He caught her with open arms, as if the warmth of her body was as real as it would ever get for the two of them. He was as she had remembered, fingers entangled in her short, brown hair, arms tight around her like he had held her last. The church was warm unlike she had remembered, light flooded the place for the first time as if to shine upon the both of them. It was a dream after all.

 

“Are you real?” she asked, over and over again.

 

“Only if you want me to be,” he told her, smiling into her hair, knowing very well none of this was real.

 

“I don’t want to wake up. I don’t want to,” she said over and over again breathily, arms wound tight around him afraid he’d melt and away and leave her forever. 

 

“You have to,” dream Akechi told her, “I won’t keep you here like this.”

 

“Why are you always trying to get rid of me?!” she cried, “After all this time… When I finally have something that I-”

 

She wanted to say love. She wanted to say it, but wouldn’t it have been more right to tell the real Akechi? The one waiting for her?  _ The one she waited for to wake up. _

 

“That you what?” he asked patiently.

 

“I loved you,” she said, voice breaking as she sobbed into his chest. 

 

The man was silent, sullen as he saw her weep for him. 

 

“I want… all my firsts to be with you. You saved me,” she continued, tears streaking her cheeks and onto the now-wrinkled, dirty shirt that he’d last worn.

 

“I simply asked you the questions that allowed you to save yourself,” he told her quietly.

 

“That’s not true!”

 

“It is, Makoto. Look within yourself and you’ll know.”

 

She was going mad, wondering if Akechi had always secretly been so enveloped by putting her first. Perhaps this simply her own cognition of her, how she viewed him. Makoto wondered if he had his own perception of her as well. She pulled away from him reluctantly to look upon his face - sad and glazed over as he looked down at her. 

 

“Let me prove that I’m serious about you,” she said softly, tugging onto him as if he’d let her go at any point to push her back into reality.

 

His face turned bright, smiling secretly as he began to slowly fade away - light consuming him entirely. Makoto reached out to grab him, seemingly falling back into the ground as he disappeared from her entirely.

 

“No-!”

 

“Wake up.”

 

\------

 

Makoto’s lids were heavy. The feeling was akin to similar ones she’d felt before, but this time she feared that she’d only receive the bad news that awaited her. She counted down from three before she opened her eyes, finding herself in the seemingly same uncomfortable bed that she had laid in for months back in the convent had made its way to the hospital. She was isolated in a wing obviously meant for non-patients and no one was there to greet her when she awoke. Time seemed to stand still the moment she woke, but she knew that it had passed just as well. Maybe it was a few minutes, an hour or more, but regardless, she doubted that whatever time she had spent in that dream of hers had changed anything. 

 

She laid there, afraid to turn towards the door as she listened to the hustle and bustle of shoes sifting on the ground - nurses running to and fro as they rushed to tend to their patients. There was a vase by the window, clearly not meant for her, but Makoto found a sudden need to count all the petals on the flowers there. They were freshly cut as seen by the ragged stems cut from dull scissors - who had the time to cut flowers at the hospital? The water stood seemingly still, but the window was open, and there was a breeze. These suddenly mundane, and unusually regular occurrences made Makoto realize how very little time she had spent to stop and gaze upon the world as it was. 

 

A sudden pang of guilt hit her as she paralleled her fear to that of the many times she turned a blind eye to the students’ concerns back at Shujin. How many times were they victim to abuse from their teachers? How many times did she turn down a request to look into an issue because she was “busy?” How could she ever look at herself again when she had killed someone - and not just anyone for that matter. She swallowed when she realized her tears had dampened the pillow by her cheek. There was a new resolve that overcame her - one similar to the last time she had really spoken to Akechi back in her room at the convent. 

 

**This memorable day marks your graduation from your false self.**

 

_ Myself. Me…? I can feel it. I’ll do it for you. _

 

She wiped away her tears, brows furrowing as she pulled herself from the rickety bed. Makoto knew she wouldn’t lose heart again, ever. 

 

The door was open, and a particularly large group of nurses ran past her as she peered out of the room. One stopped to turn back at her.

 

“Aren’t you Niijima Makoto?” she asked in a rush, eyes worried and weary.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Akechi Goro is awake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost near the end ;-( congrats if you've made it thus far! I know I've led you on for a long time. I anticipate maybe 3 or 4 more chapters? Knowing me, I'd want to keep it an even number but I'll likely keep going until... forever if I wanted to, really. 
> 
> I've been having so much fun filling all the requests for prompts, so thank you so much for all the Ko-Fi support thus far! If you want to support me, consider buying me a coffee and I’ll return your kindness with drabbles. <3
> 
> ko-fi.com/persephine


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'd go gladly through the flames if it meant you'd speak my name with love in your voice

Makoto felt the urge to run, get as far away as she possibly could, and never see Akechi again. His chest was heaving evenly now, albeit slowly. She leaned against the frame of the door as she watched the nurses surround him, checking his pulse, refilling the IV. For some reason, Makoto didn’t seem to think that she could face him ever again. Her body was frozen as she contemplated her next step - wouldn’t she be the most horrible person for leaving him be?

 

Before she could go too far down that path of thought, the same nurse that recognized her turned around to smile at her.

 

“He’s stable,” she told her, “He’ll wake up soon, but you’re free to see him now if you want.”

 

She didn’t want to, but she didn’t tell the nurse that. Makoto watched the flock of nurses leave the room, writing something on a clipboard before hanging it on the door. They closed the door behind them, anticipating that the two wanted privacy. Slowly, Makoto made her way to him, ensuring the sound of her steps wouldn’t be what woke him. For the first time since he’d arrived in the hospital, she touched his arm and felt his pulse. A wave of guilt overcame her and she wondered if he’d be angry that she was the reason he was here in the first place. Through the slit of his still-closed eyes, she could barely make out his eyes. She considered something, in hopes that he would be listening.

 

“Goro. I’m leaving soon,” she said softly, feeling awkward that she was talking to him while he was unconscious, “I don’t think… I thought I could do this but… I can’t. Not yet at least.”

 

She paused as she waited for him to rise up at any point to reject the idea. When there was no sign that he would, she reached to hold his hand. It’d been cold only a few moments before, but the warmth of his fingers were slowly coming back, twitching ever so slightly as she held it.

 

“There’s so much that I have to make up for. Even if you weren’t in this situation, I don’t think I’d have the heart to go back to my old life and be with you,” she said honestly, “Even if I wanted to.”

 

She saw one of his veins twitch, and for the first time, she mustered enough strength to eye the wound by his shoulder where she had shot him.

 

“I’m probably just afraid. I’ve always been afraid.”

 

His fingers twitched again, seemingly grasping onto her hand even unconsciously, and Makoto felt a pang of sadness settle at her throat as she forced herself not to cry. It’d be only a few short minutes of her fighting the feeling before she erupted into quiet sobs.

 

“I have to go,” she said quietly.

 

_No, you don’t._

 

“I want to be with you, but I can’t.”

 

_Yes, you can._

 

She decided that she had a long way to go before she could properly face him. He pointed her in the right direction, and she’d see it through to the end. Makoto stood up, body hovering over Akechi’s. She felt her heart stop when he stirred for a moment before returning to his previous state. When he settled again, she leaned down to kiss him one final time. His lips were soft, and she’d remember him this way. She’d remember their last moment together in the church, finally in each other’s arms as she kissed him with intention. Makoto wondered briefly if he’ll think about her. Maybe in his strife and recovery, he’d learn to loathe her and move on.

 

She knew she’d never forget him though. The rough touch of his kindness had really saved her, and Makoto would stick by that until the very end. Perhaps their paths would cross in the future - she hoped he wouldn’t be against it - but until then, she wanted him to remember her as such.

 

“I love you,” she said against his lips, body overcome for a moment with anticipation when he stirred from her words, “Goodbye, Goro.”

 

\------

 

_4 months later_

 

Makoto clutched the acceptance letter close to her chest, smiling to herself before handing it over to her therapist.

 

“Oh, so you were accepted into the police academy? Good for you, I’m proud of you,” she said.

 

“Thank you. I worked hard.”

 

“You did,” she replied, validating her.

 

There was a brief moment of silence as Makoto twiddled her thumbs, wondering what to talk about next.

 

“Things still fine with your sister?” her therapist asked.

 

“Yes. She’s thrilled for me, and we were able to have that talk like you recommended.”

 

“Good. And what about the church?”

 

“They closed it down, actually,” Makoto said, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, “It’s strange.”

 

“I’m not surprised. They’ll hardly bring in any visitors with its reputation now. What about the other nuns?”

 

“They’re being transferred. After that happened, I hadn’t tried to keep up with whatever else. I think it’s embarrassing for me to think about as is. I was so… childish?”

 

“We all have these phases, and in those phases, we do embarrassing things. You have to learn to forgive yourself. That’s the most important thing.”

 

Makoto nodded, as if understanding but not truly applying.

 

“And have you forgiven yourself?” her therapist asked carefully.

 

“I’m not sure. I’m working on it.”

 

“Are you?”

 

It wasn’t like her to question Makoto.

 

“No,” Makoto said honestly, “It’s hard. I almost don’t know how to. It’s as if I need to make sure that everyone around me has forgiven me first to know that it’s fine for me to forgive myself. I don’t think I’ve… entirely received everyone’s forgiveness yet.”

 

“Akechi Goro?”

 

Makoto had mentioned him by name to her therapist. Even Ren, whose name was plastered in the papers and news, she had simply referred to him as “that priest.” Sae was “my sister,” so on and so forth.

 

“I haven’t gone to see him yet. I don’t know how to find him,” she lied.

 

“I think you do. He works with your sister, doesn’t he?” her therapist smiled at her.

 

“Supposedly.”

 

“Why are you running away?”

 

The question sounded more like, “why did you run away?” They were all the same no matter how much she wanted to hide from it.

 

“I’m afraid he hates me,” she admitted.

 

“And what if he doesn’t?” she challenged in return.

 

“I don’t know what I would do,” Makoto said quietly.

 

“I think you have an idea of what you want to do. Maybe find it in your heart to forgive yourself before you ask him for his forgiveness. I don’t think there’s much he as to forgive you for,” her therapist told her.

 

“4 months of radio silence? A bullet wound?-”

 

“Rubber bullet.”

 

“It doesn’t change the fact that I shot him and… and he had health problems that I didn’t know about and…” Makoto went on, burying her face in her hands as she hid from the tears that were inevitable.

 

She heard the sound of the tissue box on the desk move towards her.

 

“Why do you beat yourself up over something you had no idea of knowing?”

 

“I shouldn’t have done it to begin with, regardless of not knowing about his health,” Makoto cried.

 

“But you saved him. It would’ve been a bullet through the head or heart if it wasn’t for you. Don’t you agree?” she asked.

 

“I don’t know that. The priest could’ve just been bluffing-”

 

“Yet, he’d killed the nun only moments before.”

 

Makoto remembered the details of Ren’s confession through the thick glass on the other side. He’d confessed to the crime, pleaded guilty and all of that with no hesitation. She had felt a graze of a chill up her arm when Ren turned to look at the glass, likely knowing she was behind it. He smirked in her general direction before they took him away.

 

“Let’s just say, hypothetically speaking, I went to see Goro,” Makoto started slowly, “What if he doesn’t want to see me?”

 

“I think when that time comes, you’ll know what to do, wouldn’t you?”

 

Makoto had a penchant for running.

 

“I want him to want to see me. I want to tell him I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

 

“Seems you know what to do then.”

 

\------

 

Makoto held herself still, heart pounding when she entered the building. Her question was simple enough. Tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, she waltzed to the front desk of the station.

 

“Hi. I want to know if Akechi Goro is in today?”

 

The security officer looked at her with confusion. She wasn’t the usual guest that came up to the front desk and he was thrown off by her question.

 

“I believe so,” he responded.

 

“Is that for certain? May I speak to him?” she prodded.

 

“What business do you have with the detective?” he asked curiously.

 

“He helped me solve a case a few months ago. The one from the church,” she told him, not willing to divulge anything else.

 

“And what business do you have with a solved case?”

 

Makoto frowned at the line of questioning, remembering suddenly that she would soon be studying to be a police officer. Perhaps she should act as such.

 

“Business that concerns the two of us only,” she said.

 

The security officer sighed before ringing who she assumed was Akechi. He muttered a few singular words on the phone before turning to look at her.

 

“He said he’s not scheduled to see anyone,” he told her, holding his hand to the end of the phone.

 

“Does he want my name? Perhaps that’d jog his memory,” she said, “Tell him Niijima Makoto is here to see him.”

 

He did as he was told. The man replied with understanding before hanging up.

 

“He won’t see you,” he told her.

 

Makoto felt her the strings holding her heart break. The pain traveled to her chest and she felt as if she could cry. Had she really ruined everything? She didn’t try to fight for it- if they were his wishes then she’d come to respect them. She nodded, and turned away.

 

“Miss, you’re welcome to try again if you want,” the security officer pleaded, feeling almost half bad that the detective had turned her away.

 

“It was personal business anyways,” she said quietly, not intending to repeat herself.

 

Makoto stood near the revolving door of the station, clutching her arm for a moment. She decided she’d go home, have herself a good cry and hope that Sae would come home that night so she could cry some more. It hurt and throbbed so painfully to know that he wanted nothing to do with her anymore. In a world where some entity of some kind had to have fated them to meet, Makoto had to go and ruin the one good thing that life had given her thus far. She’d cut her losses, she told herself. Maybe she’ll get over it just like he got over her.

 

But, oh, she thought, why did it hurt so, so terribly?

 

Before she could control herself, she found herself quaking unbearably, hand clasped over her mouth as she held back a sob.

 

“Miss-“

 

The heavy doors of the interior station opened, someone entering her vicinity. Before she could even find the courage to face whoever it was, Makoto wiped away the tears that pricked the ducts of her eyes.

 

“Niijima.”

 

The voice was one she had heard too many times in her dreams. She whipped her head to face it, heart nearly bursting when she laid eyes on Akechi Goro.

 

Even with an unreadable, neutral expression, Makoto had seen the dark circles under his eyes. He’d seemed to have lost weight even with how little he must’ve weighed as is. His hair was longer, but not too unkempt. It was likely he hadn’t had the time to cut it. But his demeanor was all the same, and for the first time since they’d last convened at the church the night everything ended, he faced her alive.

 

She dare not run into his arms for fear of rejection. She wished he’d come running and scoop her into her arms, spin her and tell her how long he’d waited for her to return. He would do none of those things.

 

“You wanted to see me?” he asked politely.

 

Makoto felt her body trembling at his nonchalant and casual behavior, knowing very well things had changed.

 

“It’s been 4 months,” she said hoarsely.

 

“I’m well aware,” he told her.

 

The distance between them made her vulnerable and she hadn’t realized her arms hand wound around herself to shield herself from his coldness.

 

_Do you still love me? Did you ever love me? What did you think when you woke up and I wasn’t there? Will you take me back?_

 

_Do you still love me?_

 

Makoto’s mind buzzed with questions she hadn’t quite fully prepared herself to ask nor bear to hear his answers.

 

_Did you wait for me? Did you think of me? Are you over me?_

 

Akechi’s body shifted to that of impatience when the conversation wasn’t going anywhere. The security officer suddenly became quite aware that she was just another one of his fangirls that came by to confess. Strangely, the detective treated her callously than with kindness as he usually did with his “fans.” The man opted to take his 15 minute break away from the thick tension.

 

“Is there something you’d like to talk about?” he asked.

 

“Everything…”

 

“Well, there’s hardly time for that. I have a job to get back to.”

 

“Leave it.”

 

His brow raised at her demand.

 

“It’s my first priority right now,” he replied.

 

Makoto wasn’t his priority.

 

“Are you done wasting my time?” he asked harshly when she was unresponsive.

 

“Is there somewhere we can talk privately?” she asked quietly.

 

Even with the lack of people around, she noted the cameras which added a layer of nervousness.

 

“Whatever you want to say to me can be said right here,” he said, not intending to close the gap between them.

 

Makoto swallowed and felt as if her heart might stop beating entirely.

 

“I love you.”

 

Akechi clenched his jaw slightly at her words, holding his frame unphased but with no proper response.

 

“Is that all?” he asked, with no intention to follow up or acknowledge.

 

“No, there’s more,” she said, “A lot more. 4 months worth.”

 

“A text would’ve been fine,” he said.

 

Makoto flinched at his remark. He had attempted to contact her within a few days of her deserting him, receiving no response whatsoever. A few more tries and he found that the number had been disconnected entirely. Akechi didn’t need to be told twice. She wondered if he tried to get into contact with Sae. If he had, her sister hadn’t bothered to tell her anything of the sort. He believed she was selfish to even think for a moment that she could pick up right where they had left off. He didn’t dare to admit that he lost sleep over her, but the display in his appearance was obvious.

 

He sighed, glancing down at his watch for a moment before attempting to dismiss her.

 

“I’m sorry,” she tried.

 

He froze and awaited what else would come.

 

“I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I never responded. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when you woke up. I’m sorry for all of it,” she said over and over again.

 

She held her ground, staring deeply and unwavering at him for fear that she may never see him again after all of this.

 

“Don’t you want to know why I did it? All of it?” she asked, voice breaking.

 

“Not really,” he admitted.

 

Makoto bit her lip.

 

“I-“

 

“Don’t say you did it for me. You abandoned me.”

 

Makoto sighed in relief, relishing in the fact that he was at least showing some feeling other than indifference. He was angry- she could at least attempt to relieve that. Her heart was with him, knowing very well that he was abandoned and she was just another tally along the wall around his heart.

 

But she came back. She sought forgiveness.

 

“I got into the police academy,” she said quietly, “I sought treatment for my trauma. I wanted your forgiveness but I knew I didn’t deserve it for the way I treated you.”

 

Akechi’s eyes softened at her explanation, unmatching his cold exterior still.

 

“You told me… I had potential,” she said breathlessly, “No one ever believed in me. Most of all, I didn’t believe in myself.”

 

After each thought, she braced herself for an interjection of “I don’t care.” When it didn’t come, she continued.

 

“There were people I needed to make amends to. My sister most of all- you made me realize that. I told her everything.”

 

Makoto took a deep breath.

 

“All this time,” she started, voice shaking, “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me and I… I went and did it all the same like you meant morning to me. I’m so sorry, Goro.”

 

The tears finally came. Akechi felt his throat dry up at the sight of someone he _loved_ crying and pouring her heart out for him. The trust he had built for her was too shattered.

 

“You saved me,” she cried, “You broke me down and brought me back up when no one else would. I faced the hardship I had always ran away from. Half of it you won’t ever know.”

 

“Makoto-“

 

“I’m not done! Goro, you loved me when I couldn’t even bear to look at myself. How could I have faced you when I had nearly _killed_ you?”

 

Akechi understood finally. Those that fled him either never cared or feared failing him and confronting their failures. It was never about him. And here Makoto was - baring all her vulnerabilities for him to see out in the open.

 

“I couldn’t dare to wake up if everyday was to acknowledge that I had lost you,” she said softly, “I had to be better. I had to make amends.”

 

There was so much he wanted to ask in return.

 

_Why did you leave me when I had no one? Did you ever think about how much it must’ve hurt when I woke up without you?_

 

“You’re fine with just my forgiveness?” he asked her.

 

Makoto’s eyes widened at the question. She’d continued to tell herself that it was his forgiveness that she sought, yet in her mind she desired his love once more.

 

“Tell me that’s all you want and I’ll grant it,” he repeated.

 

It wasn’t all she wanted.

 

“I want…”

 

She clenched her fists so hard her knuckles turned white.

 

“I want to prove that I’m serious about you.”

 

Akechi held himself still even as surprise enraptured his body.

 

“You have proof?” he asked as any normal detective would.

 

“I do.”

 

“How do you intend to prove it?”

 

Makoto swallowed visibly. A few moments to herself, and she found herself saying something strange.

 

“Chess.”

 

He frowned.

 

“You asked me once if I played. Do you recall?” she prodded.

 

“I do,” he said hesitantly.

 

“If one game isn’t enough to convince you then… I’ll go. I’ll take whatever forgiveness you wish to bestow on me and I’ll leave. The burden of proof is on me,” she said firmly.

 

He was colored impressed.

 

“Isn’t this all a ploy to get me out of this place? How do I know you’re not going to tie me up somewhere?” he smirked.

 

“I suppose that’s the small amount of faith you have to place with me,” she replied.

 

Akechi pondered her request for a moment while his eyes wandered over her body. She’d stiffened up as she waited for his reply, anticipating and preparing for potential rejection. It felt like an eternity had passed before he felt like replying. The security officer had returned from break and prompted the both of them that their conversation was near the end of its course.

 

“One game.”

 

———

 

It was hardly appropriate to play a game of chess at the police station. The church had closed down and both their respective homes were off limits given their current relationship status. Makoto felt a gust of wind ripple through her hair as she sat across from Akechi on the roof of Shujin. After all these years, she’d held onto the keys to the rooftop and to her surprise they hadn’t changed the locks.

 

They were in the midst of their game and Makoto was losing. Her rules were simple- within the span of their game, she had the floor to convince Akechi. It was coming to an end much sooner than she had anticipated and she began to worry.

 

He claimed her knight.

 

“Your scar on your wrist. It was from an attempted suicide, wasn’t it?” she asked him.

 

“Most likely,” he said cryptically, waiting for her turn as he watched the timer click away.

 

She’d used all the time she had before making her next moves thus far, an indication to him that she knew what she was doing as she made her play at the last second.

 

“The gun I had. It was my father’s,” she started, “It was the last possession he had with him and… I was going to use it. For myself.”

 

He frowned visibly, nodding in understanding and holding back every attempt to shake her for being so stupid. It was strange how it applied to her but not for him.

 

“And that’s why I knew about your scar,” she continued, “I figured you and I were the same.”

 

The timer buzzed and Makoto moved her pawn forward right into the spot where Akechi could claim it. He sighed once more as if indicating to her that she’d make a mistake. She knew. He avoided taking it out of interest.

 

“I dreamt about you in the hospital,” she said shyly, “When I passed out.”

 

“You passed out?”

 

Makoto looked up and nodded.

 

“You flatlined for a moment. Did they ever tell you?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“I… I think I passed out because I awoke in one of the hospital beds. But before that, I dreamt about you.”

 

She appeared to be finished with that part of her confession and Akechi felt perplexed about inquiring of the contents in her dreams.

 

“You wouldn’t keep me in the dream,” Makoto said, smiling softly at the interlude, “You told me I had to wake up. That you’d simply asked me the questions I was too afraid to ask myself. And-“

 

The timer buzzed and she moved forward once more, dangerously close to his queen. Akechi made a misstep and placed his bishop in a precarious position.

 

“Go on,” he said impatiently.

 

“I didn’t want to wake up,” she admitted, “They had declared your death. I knew that was what I was waking up to. He sent me away.”

 

Akechi felt his heart pound as he recognized the parallels of their dreams in tandem.

 

“The four months,” he said quietly, initiating her to talk about that part.

 

“I wanted to respond. Everyday, I wanted to. It wasn’t that I wasn’t ready I just… I didn’t want to run away but I knew that you’d given me the best version of yourself. Who I was then was just a shell of who I am now. You deserved better than someone so broken and indecisive. I couldn’t face you when I was all over the place.”

 

He wanted to scream at her, tell her that he didn’t care if she was awful. It didn’t change the fact that she was Makoto and that he’d fallen for a broken thing the same way she fell in love with a monster.

 

She made her move, pushing her pawn backwards away from his queen and bishop.

 

“You could’ve won just now,” he told her.

 

“Did you want me to?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

They were silent for a little while. Makoto had said all that she could and hoped that he understood. In a way, laying it all out in the open had felt relatively similar to the time they were in the confessional together. She blushed at the memory, but she felt that a weight had been lifted. Perhaps, they could be friends if he wanted. She didn’t want to move on but maybe in time, she could.

 

“When did you know?” he asked.

 

Makoto looked up at him, recognizing the embarrassment in his face before she knew he could’ve only been talking about one thing.

 

“Abelard and Heloise.”

 

For the first time, she saw him smile at the memory.

 

“That’s when you knew?” he asked, looking down at the chessboard.

 

“Mhmm. I felt it then for certain,” she replied, smiling softly in return at the memory of butterflies in her stomach.

 

“Then you lied?”

 

“Not necessarily,” she frowned at the accusation, “I simply meant that if it weren’t for the circumstance, then we’d be in love. I didn’t know what you felt then so how could I admit that it was a collective feeling?”

 

“I made it very obvious that I wanted you,” he told her.

 

Makoto chuckled to herself, leaving her king wide open. She was ready.

 

“Isn’t it obvious that I’m not good with obviousness?” she asked.

 

“I’ve met worse,” he reassured her.

 

He moved his pawn a step away from her king.

 

“Last thing. The first time you texted me- did you know what you were insinuating?” he asked.

 

Makoto thought for a moment, watching his fingers press down on the piece he was holding onto. She remembered the memory of their conversation vaguely, but for Akechi to bring it up as such meant it had an effect on him.

 

“I believe I did,” she said secretly, “You mean when I said I’d make it worth your while, correct?”

 

“Something like that, yes.”

 

“I asked you what you would have wanted as a favor in return,” she nodded, remembering now, “I safely assumed it would be something trivial.”

 

“And did you not safely assume something else at all?” he asked lowly.

 

Makoto reached out to touch the hand on his pawn.

 

“I wanted to believe that you’d ask me to kiss you,” she said finally.

 

Akechi’s response was to take her king, the black piece resembling how quickly the skies were turning dark.

 

“Checkmate,” Makoto said for him, “I suppose I’ve said everything I needed to say.”

 

The wind howled once more, a reminder that it was getting darker by the second.

 

“I think,” Akechi said quietly, “by now you’ve racked a few favors that you owe me. I’d like to use one right now.”

 

Makoto nodded in agreement, intending to shake on it.

 

She felt her world stop when Akechi leaned forward, hovering over the chessboard and kissed her. In the dark, whatever lights illuminated in the sky bore witness to the tears rolling down her cheeks. His hand cupped her cheek and her own reached for his arm. He pulled away first, feeling her breath on his lips just like he had unconsciously felt at the hospital.

 

“Is that all you had in mind? You have quite a few favors left,” she said, smiling.

 

Akechi chuckled lowly before pressing his lips to hers once more with greater need. In between her quiet laughs and tears, he felt her whisper and ghost her love for him over and over again. He felt his heart swell as he willingly succumbed once more to Makoto’s words as the city beneath them stood none the wiser.

 

He had long forgiven her and loved her for just as long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :’}


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll kiss you again between the bars

Spring approached them with a blink of an eye. The snowfall came right after Ren’s arrest. His trial came and went a few months later, and Makoto felt like she could breathe again when the snow melted away. She confronted Akechi without much planning, following her instinct and the suggestion of her therapist. In the end, she was grateful and glad that she had for fear of him slipping through her fingers like he almost had in the hospital. It took some time, but Makoto wondered if life for her would have been so much more different if she looked at it differently than the way she was expected to. 

 

The kiss on the roof wasn’t their first time, but Makoto felt as though it was the first time she had ever truly been able to look at him as herself. She felt like her heart could burst when he held her hand, leading her down the few flights of stairs out of the school. The students would be surprised to find an absent chessboard when they treaded the supposed off-limits rooftop the following day, Makoto thought with a small across her lips and her head on Akechi’s shoulder while they waited for their train. They exchanged a few string of words but nothing suggested what they were to become following their meeting. She hadn’t received closure in that but she found that she had already been too brave that day to ask of anything else from him. 

 

Akechi could sense her reluctance and hesitation - it was obvious when she had something she wanted to say. He put his attache case down, ensnared his arms around her shoulders and held her close to him. He heard her breathe a vocal sigh of relief when he held her, hoping and wishing that he’d never let her go. Just from the thoughts alone, she thought she might cry from the fear of letting go. He squeezed her body, finding no courage to speak the first set of goodbyes. ‘I’ll see you soon,’ seemed open-ended. 

 

With her leftover bravado, Makoto asked their shared question when she felt his arms loosen around her frame and pull away to look at her eyes.

 

“When will I see you again?” she asked breathlessly, cheeks dusted in red from the chilly weather and coy question.

 

“Whenever you want to,” he told her, gloved hands reaching to place strands of her bangs back in place from the wind.

 

“Tomorrow,” she told him.

 

“Is that not too soon for you?” he asked.

 

“No. I’ve waited too long,” she admitted, “for you.”

 

“As did I, my dear.” 

 

Makoto blushed hard at the remark, her lips curving in an uneasy smile. 

 

“Am I embarrassing you?” he teased.

 

“Yes. Very much so,” she said honestly.

 

“I couldn’t help it,” he confessed, “Tomorrow then? You’re aware that I work?”

 

“Yes,” she said shyly, “I have classes tomorrow anyways, so…”

 

“Did you ask the universe to grant this or some higher being?” he joked.

 

“I asked myself,” she pouted at him, “Is another time better for you? I wouldn’t want to fill your schedule with my presence if you’d rather not.”

 

“No, I’d want nothing more than to see you and fill in all the gaps of the last four months. And yet-”

 

“Yet?”

 

He didn’t answer, but looked at her strangely and in a sad way.

 

“It’s nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told her.

 

Makoto wasn’t pleased with his answer, but she nodded in agreement. She looked up at him with large eyes, hoping he’d grant her one last thing before their separate trains arrived in a few minutes. She felt too shy to ask still, eyes darting from his face and then up to the schedules hung from the ceiling of the train station. She heard him laugh and knew he’d figured her out. With a radiant smile, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers in an innocent kiss. Makoto pressed forward, tongue running along the bottom of his lip to signal that she wanted more than just that. He let her in and she became relentless, kissing him with the built-up passion of the last four months. It felt similar to their last encounter at the church where they were alone, but she liked this much more. 

 

The rush of the incoming train alerted Akechi to pull away first, much to his dismay. He pressed a few light kisses along her cheek, her nose and then to the curve of her brow before he released her. 

 

Makoto’s heart skipped a beat as she watched him board the train in long steps. The doors remained open for slightly longer until the conductor announced its soon departure. She held her hand over her heart, unwilling to see him leave even as he gave her a reassuring glance. Counting down 20 seconds, she ran when she reached the 10 second mark. The passengers on the train were surprised when she darted in, hands clutching onto Akechi’s arms as the door closed behind her. 

 

She let out a soft laugh at his mortified expression, followed by his own sound of relief and nervousness. Makoto kissed him again in the middle of the train, clutching onto his heavy coat before she hid her face from the world around her against his chest. She listened to the pounding of his heart before seemingly dozing off in his arms as he held her for the rest of the train ride back to his apartment.

 

\------

“I’m assuming you had a plan when you jumped onto the train with me,” Akechi said cheekily, tightening his grip on her hand as he led her to the lobby of his apartment  building.

 

“No,” she said smiling, “I haven’t had much of a need for plans nowadays. Sorry to disappoint.”

 

“I don’t see a need in one if you can find ways to believe in yourself when confronted with anything and everything,” he told her.

 

“That’s quite a philosophical way of putting it. Is that your way of telling me that you believe in me?” she teased, following him into the elevator.

 

It was notably quieter now that they were in an enclosed space.

 

“I do and I don’t,” he said mysteriously, “I’m not fully aware of your relationship with Sae now, so if she starts calling me-”

 

“She won’t. She rarely comes home. I hardly noticed when I was so busy with school but in the time that I was waiting for classes to begin again, I had a lot of time to realize.”

 

“Will you expect me to apologize for my late nights as well?” he asked, pressing the hold button on ‘open’ when the elevator reached his floor.

 

“I don’t expect you to,” she said, walking out.

 

She would’ve liked it but even so, she felt that she was on thin ice with him. The burden of proof of her love was still on her and she was uneasy about it. Even when he led her inside his apartment, she felt uneasy about it. Even when he removed her coat for her to claim her lips, she was uneasy about the burden more than anything else. When he pulled away, she could hear him breathe unevenly as if struggling to contain himself from something. 

 

Makoto had heard words, but she couldn’t quite process what they meant. Akechi had to practically remove himself from entangling around her, blushing furiously as he began to process the proximity of her from him. 

 

“Do you plan to stay?” he asked.

 

“I want to,” she confessed.

 

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

 

She tilted her head in partial hurt.

 

“Only if you think it is,” she said, grimacing.

 

“Your presence makes me uneasy,” he admitted, “I don’t trust myself around you at times.”

 

“Oh,” she said, clearly hurt.

 

“It was easier at the convent admittedly, as strange as that sounds. I was forced to behave there, but here-”

 

Makoto’s eyes widened when she slowly processed what he might have meant.

 

“You can’t control yourself?” she asked in half statement.

 

“I’ll try my best,” he answered.

 

She nodded happily, pressing her lips against his again to express as such. When she pulled away from the innocent action, she heard him groan quietly. He turned away from her to busy himself in the kitchen, leaving Makoto both perplexed at the sound he made and denied of further proving her  _ love _ for him. Frowning slightly, she hung up her coat on one of the hooks by the door, doing the same for his as well. From behind the counter, Akechi watched her like a predator out of sight. He clasped his hand over his mouth to hide the hitch in his breath as he calmed himself down. It was true he had never stopped thinking of her even in the time that she had gone away, but he never imagined that she would’ve made it into his home within a few hours of them reconvening.

 

The truth was that he couldn’t trust himself to behave around her, his body already way ahead of him in its betrayal. His skin was flushed even in the slight cold of his apartment, his hands visibly quaking if she were to pay attention. Makoto loosened the scarf around her neck before sliding it off and hanging that onto the hook of her coat as well. The brief display of the back of her neck thanks to the short length of her dark brown hair made his mouth twitch at the sight. From where he was, he could see the silhouette of her body thanks to the black sweater that she wore, a sharp contrast from the habit he was particularly familiar with. 

 

When Makoto smoothed her hands over the short pleated skirt was when Akechi had had enough. He pressed the back of his hands to his face briefly before encircling around from the kitchen to return back to her. The poor girl was greeted with his face flushed, expression twisted in one that she hadn’t recognized as ‘need’ and ‘desire’ just yet. She made an audible sound when he leaned against her, back hitting the door as she stared up at him with doe-like eyes. His eyes were hooded as he stared down at her, hands not knowing where they quite belong. They hovered briefly around her shoulders, and then decided to go for her wrists for a moment before returning back to ghost her jaw undecidedly. Makoto inhaled at his struggle, chest slightly heaving upward as he struggled between aiming to claim her and wishing to uphold his promise of controlling himself. 

 

To make matters worse, Makoto touched him to comfort his inner turmoil. Her fingers danced up his arms, seemingly lighting him on fire in their wake. Akechi let out a soft unexpected gasp which she mistook as a sigh of relief and she continued with her ministrations, smiling up at him lovingly all the while. He turned rough when his hands cupped her face briefly, eliciting her to tilt her head in confusion. Had he not pushed himself off of her, he would’ve been a hair away from her crushing his lips onto hers and leading her to his room. Instead, he looked at her painfully.

 

“Are you hungry?” he asked in a hoarse voice. 

 

“Yes,” she said happily, “Let me help.”

 

He hadn’t realized that he had been chewing on his lip nervously until she swiped her finger along his lips. 

 

“Sorry. This is hardly what I imagined our first date to be like,” he said quietly.

 

“Date? Don’t worry, I don’t think of it like that at all.”

 

He frowned.

 

“I do intend to, though. Take you on a date, I mean,” he said clumsily, “A proper one.”

 

“I don’t know what those entail either,” she blushed, “But if it’s with you…”

 

She didn’t finish her thought, only looked to him with such a coy demeanor that he could’ve never imagined a  _ nun _ to know how to say, forcing him to turn away from her entirely as he sought to make them both dinner. 

 

“What?” she called, pouting slightly at his evasiveness.

 

“Nothing,” he breathed.

 

\------

 

Time had either slowed to a halt or going by faster than ever, but with Makoto around, Akechi couldn’t tell what was what anymore, unfortunately. The clock ticked slowly on its way to midnight and he found himself continuously glancing at it. He didn’t feel comfortable sending her home even though it’d give him some peace in mind that he wouldn’t be scaring her away with his primal urges. Matters became worse now that she was pressed so comfortably against his shoulder on the couch and she’d fallen asleep after their dinner. 

 

He didn’t have the heart to wake her up, he decided as he ran his fingers along her hand. She stirred for a moment before readjusting herself so that she was draped more comfortably around him. He sighed for a moment before he picked her up in his arms. Makoto didn’t wake and showed no signs of doing so even as he brought her into his room. She looked uncomfortable, but he couldn’t bring himself to undress her. Underneath the dimness of what light shown through his window, he watched her snuggle close to the warmth of the blanket, and then she turned onto her side. 

 

Akechi noted that it was the first time he’d seen her in such a way and for a moment, it seemed that the usual serious expression she held reserved for him when he had visited her in the convent had faded away. Given who she was, he doubted that she was a heavy sleeper. Makoto was very tired. He sensed that she’d been lacking in sleep as of late and pursed his lips in contemplation. She seemed to grab onto his hand, unwilling to let go just as she had fallen asleep with her hand in his. He was able to pry himself from her, exhaling when she didn’t wake up. Thinking to himself, Akechi realized he had made many attempts to tell her that he loved her in his dreams. Even in the turn of her betrayal, in front of Ren, he had put his pride in a precarious place, admitting that he had loved her. 

 

He had never seen her stature tremble so visibly and noticeably as she had then. Ren hadn’t noticed it, but Akechi saw that his words had an effect on her for sure at that time. In truth, although she had said it once during his slumber in the hospital, and then again when she sought him out, he had been the first to admit such feelings. Brushing away the strands of hair that hid the tail of her brow from him, he pressed a soft kiss to it, and then to the lid of her eye, and then against the side of her nose. Makoto made a soft sound, a small smile painted along her lips as if she were dreaming of something nice and far away. 

 

“I love you,” he whispered to her, unbeknownst that she had done almost the same four months ago. 

 

Even though he wished he could’ve stayed up all night watching her sleep, he willed himself to climb into bed with her. As if sensing his presence, she turned to snuggle close to his body and the heat it emitted. He listened to the soft sound of her breathing before almost falling asleep instantly. An indescribable peace came over him when he held Makoto in his arms, and Akechi wondered right before he fell fast asleep what  _ entity _ had enough mercy to grant him such happiness. A brief fear overcame him as a sort of possessive paranoia entered his thoughts of Makoto being ripped from his arms now that she belonged to him at last.

 

As if sensing this fear, Makoto stirred awake and realized finally where she was. She’d been cocooned in his arms and sought to return the favor. He looked to her briefly in a sleepy gaze before she smiled and allowed him to sleep along the side of her neck as she held him in her arms. She heard him sigh briefly before she shushed him, cleansing him of the irrational thoughts and fears that he might have been considering. She fell back asleep almost instantly and he soon followed suit.

 

This time, for the first time in months since the moment he had met her, a dreamless slumber awaited him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finalized the amount of chapters left in Postulancy and it's giving me separation anxiety. I know I had just completed another chapter yesterday but after all that angst, I needed something fluffy to write about. And of course, you know what follows after that :-)


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> heaven is a place on earth with you

“Morning.”

 

Akechi acknowledged the greeting, nodding briefly at the attendant.

 

“Cell 563, I believe it was. Inmate number 443920. Akechi Goro,” he said, wasting no time.

 

The attendant nodded quickly in understanding, knowing there’d be no small talk to buffer him from delaying the request. He didn’t even bother to check for identification because of the detective’s serious demeanor - he knew better than to question him. He made a small grunt as he struggled to get up from his seat, jingling through a chain of card keys. The man heaved a sigh, and Akechi tapped his gloved fingers once around the hot cup of coffee he was holding in his hand, attaché case and blazer suit in the other hand, to signify that he was patient, but not particularly so at this moment.

 

The attendant tapped one of the many card keys against the sensor of the steel door, and gestured him to enter.

 

Akechi did so without words as it wasn’t his first time entering that particular prison. He had paid a particularly _unfavorable_ person a visit before in the past, and this time was obviously different. He sauntered in, still, hesitant. The bars began to blend together in patterns and he counted down to 563, the guard at the door earlier following close behind.

 

They reached 550 and Akechi turned to him.

 

“Your accompaniment won’t be necessary,” he said casually, “I think it best that you don’t hear this.”

 

The guard was unphased and likely jaded, knowing very well Akechi could be planning an escape with the inmate, but he cared very little. His day might be more interesting if they made the attempt, actually. He dismissed himself with a nod and Akechi made the rest of the short trek alone.

 

As if to manifest, or properly placed in expectancy, a chair was facing the cell already. Akechi sighed, hoping it’d be a short visit but it seemed that they had been expecting him. He nearly jumped when he saw the man in the cell had stood very close to the bars, waiting, eyes sparkling at the long-awaited human interaction. He kept his composure, but he could feel his body heat up quickly and then normalize. He was grateful that no words had been expressed just yet until he made himself comfortable in the chair. His attaché case sat by his side, and he took a sip of his coffee as he waited for the inmate to settle down in his own chair, smirking.

 

“Akechi Goro,” the prisoner slurred eloquently.

 

It was going to be a long visit. He took another sip from the cup, one arm tucked under the other as he eyed Ren. His hair had grown longer in the 9 months since his arrest. He continued to smirk at him, seemingly unphased by the nature of prison life and the many years he’d be spending behind bars. Strangely enough, he seemed to be the same man he was at the convent, unphased by the murder, unphased by it all. Dark circles painted under his eyes, so something was at least keeping him up at night.

 

“Inmate 443920,” Akechi returned just as politely.

 

“Oh, you’re breaking my heart,” the man laughed, “I was starting to lose hope about you coming to see me. You have no reason to, but here you are. My prayers were answered.”

 

Akechi nodded, forgoing the jab that he wished he could’ve vocalized about the former priest’s religious status.

 

“Is that from Leblanc?” he asked, hoping to prolong him from getting to the point of the conversation.

 

“It’s their French press blend,” Akechi replied, knowing very well that the man was hoping he’d ask how he knew.

 

“Ironically, that’s also my favorite,” Ren said, smiling slightly.

 

“I never said it was my favorite,” Akechi smirked.

 

Ren’s grin on his lips widened, unphased at the jab. It was almost as if _those_ were the reasons he was particularly fond of Akechi.

 

“How’s your girlfriend?” Ren asked next.

 

“None of your concern,” he replied flatly.

 

“Then I assume she’s under your care. She’s special, I never doubted that from the very beginning, albeit weird and… estranged,” he chuckled lightly in memory.

 

“There’s been a complication in your case,” Akechi cut him off, suddenly deciding that getting straight to the point might be more entertaining.

 

“Are they adding more years?” he asked, frowning.

 

“No.”

 

“Then, I suppose I have no reason to be worried,” Ren decided, “I have nowhere to go. Though, I do have my own means of escape if I really do start to lose my mind.”

 

“If? That’s debatable. Is it the guard or the attendant?” Akechi snided.

 

“Both,” Ren smiled.

 

Akechi made a mental note.

 

“I don’t presume that your offer from earlier still stands,” Akechi said coolly.

 

Ren leaned forward in his chair.

 

“It does,” he said lowly, knowing very well which offer it was that the detective was insinuating about.

 

“I think our differing stance on monogamy would be a deal breaker for me, though,” Akechi entertained.

 

“Never pegged you as someone to care about that,” Ren jabbed.

 

“I didn’t,” he shrugged.

 

“Past tense.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Ren was silent for a moment, mesmerized as he watched Akechi finish his coffee, wishing either for a taste of the bitter drink or the drinker.

 

“She must’ve changed you, huh?” Ren said in implication, hoping for even a lead into his personal life.

 

“Seems you’ve gained some sympathy with the jury,” Akechi said, bringing back his original point, “Who would’ve thought that a religious crowd would hold sympathy for a priest?”

 

Ren could sense the sarcasm, but he held himself back from smiling for fear of giving himself away.

 

“You’re lucky,” Akechi continued, “Makoto’s sister is a prosecutor.”

 

Ren frowned, folding his arms.

 

“So the point of this conversation was-“

 

“I thought I’d tell you in person,” Akechi replied half-sweetly, “Nothing’s changed in your sentence. It almost did, but no. I made sure of it.”

 

Ren stood up, feigning power in his stance now as he towered over Akechi in the chair. The detective leaned back to look at him, both of their expressions unreadable.

 

“You came to rub it in my face? You really are a heartbreaker, aren’t you?” Ren snided.

 

“You’re a criminal,” the detective replied plainly, “They wouldn’t have told you anyway. I thought _I_ would as a courtesy.”

 

Ren didn’t say anything, likely garnering a new form of love-hate for the man that sat so casually and unphased in the chair in front of the cell. The cup in his hand felt lighter, and so he decided it was time.

 

“I’ll take my leave,” Akechi said finally.

 

“Oh no, stay as long as you’d like. I’m in no rush,” he seethed.

 

“Don’t be upset. Maybe in another lifetime we would’ve been friends,” Akechi said.

 

Ren squinted at him, wondering if the detective really took time out of his day to rub salt into his wound. The detective got up, shrugged on his blazer and buttoned it.

 

“If Makoto knew I was visiting, she’d want me to tell you hello,” Akechi told him.

 

“Would she?” Ren snarked.

 

“No. She’d be very unhappy about it,” Akechi said truthfully.

 

“She’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

 

“Probably sooner rather than later,” the detective agreed.

 

Ren nodded in agreement, turning their last few moments to be amicable. He had all the time in the world to wallow once the detective left, much to his dismay. He never forgot the final glance he had of the detective, sensing that the aura of the man surely had changed from an apathetic, suicidal one to that of someone who had found his reason to live from being a breath away from death. Still, Ren gave him a pitiful, longing look before Akechi raised his fingers, cup in hand, and turned to walk away without a thought to look back. Ren watched him the entire time.

 

Near the end of the long hall, Akechi greeted the guard once more.

 

“I’m putting a request in for your transfer,” he said casually.

 

The guard froze up, revealing his transparent involvement with Ren to be true. He swallowed, knowing very well that he had given himself away, and could only nod. Akechi patted the man on the shoulder before walking through the door.

 

\------

 

When Makoto felt the soft press of something against her back, she snapped out of her daze, realizing she’d slowly been overcome by blurred vision as her mind tampered with strange thoughts. Perhaps she was still settling back into civilization, or maybe it was the fact that she didn’t visit coffee shops often, or maybe it was Akechi. It was likely just Akechi. He stood close to her, patient as he waited for her to ponder her order for a few moments. When she turned to look up at Akechi smiling down at her softly with his towering height, she felt a pang of unknown sparks in her stomach, and further.

 

“Forgot how to order?” Akechi teased, his breath near her ear for a moment as he leaned in close towards her temple.

 

“I don’t know what I want,” she said quietly, feeling embarrassed at the undeniable rise of goosebumps on the back of her neck from his presence.

 

“Do you want me to order for you?” he suggested, his gloved hand gentle on her arm.

 

“Y-yes,” she said, realizing she’d accepted too breathily, much to his amusement.

 

Time had ticked by and it’d been a month into their supposed “relationship.” Makoto continued to stay over when convenient, spending her time after classes to do homework near Akechi’s work. The vicinity allowed them to take the train home together - something Makoto hadn’t necessarily realized she liked so much until she made sad sighs all throughout the ride. Someone next to her cleared their throat the one time she sighed all the way back home to Sae. She took it upon herself to distance herself physically from Akechi after that out of fear that she might have been going about the idea of a relationship totally wrong. He found her easily, huddled by herself outside of school and he frowned at the distance she’d put between them. She sighed into his touches once more when he cut her off from explaining, lips crushed against hers before he grinded out that he was going slowly insane without her near him.

 

Makoto had tilted her head in surprise and confusion, not quite sure what he meant. Even with his hands around her, caressing the length of her side and pressing against her hips, she still wasn’t quite sure. His breath became ragged when he asked her if she planned to leave him again, teeth dangerously close to the side of her neck. She shook her head and he seemingly reverted back to normal, hand running through the back of his hair as he apologized and took her by the hand.

 

Their relationship became littered with moments like these- Makoto pushing herself away and Akechi pulling her back to him. It always seemingly ended in a strange redux of needy kisses and a precursor to what he hoped would come next and what she assumed to be nothing she couldn’t handle. They got dangerously close one warm night when she laid in bed with him. Both exhausted, they’d forgone showering and simply basked in each other’s company when Akechi leaned forward to kiss her as he usually did. The kiss turned rough when Makoto ran her hand experimentally down his chest and gently grazed it dangerously close along the front of his pants. She nearly jumped when she heard him growl and pin her beneath him in one quick motion. That night, he saw a glimpse of her pale skin for the first time unmasked by the usual sweaters she’d wear, her chest heaving up and down as she waited and shook like captured prey beneath him. From that moment on, his mouth never left her body, roaming it like unknown, curious territory.

 

Makoto hadn’t realized that the quiet sounds she made - light gasps, harsh breathing, and wanton moans - had only fueled the fire in his loins. He was inches away from pulling down her skirt just as he had done with her shirt and she nodded. Only when he went to unbutton his own with his long fingers did she begin to protest. Even the sight of his partially revealed chest had made her dizzy and she feared she wasn’t quite ready yet. Hiding herself in embarrassment made Akechi knit his brows before attacking her skin again. This time they weren’t just soft, gentle kisses. They were harsh bites and sucks that painted her skin in blue, red and purple. His final remark was to plant one right at the base of her throat as he trailed his fingers underneath the waistband of her panties. Makoto arched into the feel of his skin in unclaimed territory for a moment before slinking away.

 

Makoto snapped out of her daydream once more when she saw they were next in line. She immediately reached to feel her face, wondering if it was obvious that she had been overcome with unknown want and desire. She didn’t realize it at the time, but the reactions she had were obvious to Akechi- the only one who had the pleasure of seeing her as such. It became very transparent when her mind wandered to the subject of touch. When she looked up at him innocently, eyes glazed over with desire, he’d grant her a single soft kiss to her cheek. The pout that followed was worth it.

 

He ordered her a dark coffee and a sweet at random as a test for where her middle ground was. Makoto pulled out her wallet to pay, only to succumb when he felt his arm wrap around her waist, hand holding her wrist in place from paying. The cashier blushed at the display, probably wishing she was in the ditzy girl’s place as her _boyfriend_ insisted on treating her to coffee. Makoto didn’t fight back much, too entranced by Akechi’s motions as he led her to an empty table.

 

Her eyes became interested in the organic patterns of the wood in front of her, blushing furiously as she ran in her mind over and over again the fact that she was on a date for the first time ever.

 

“You don’t do this very often, do you?” he asked in implication.

 

“I don’t do this at all,” she answered, looking up at him shyly in assumption to what he’s talking about.

 

“You don’t like coffee?”

 

“No, I do,” she said quickly.

 

“You don’t ever get coffee from a coffee shop?”

 

“Sometimes…”

 

Makoto noticed his lips curl up, a moment’s notice away from laughing at her response. Finally, she realized he may have been insinuating something much more simple than her overthinking. She jumped when her name was called - was she at the convent for so long? To her horror, she backed out of her chair so quickly she’d nearly knocked over the person trying to maneuver behind her- a hair away from spilling hot coffee all over the back of her crisp white shirt.

 

Her hands were shaking when she retrieved her order, taking a deep breath before checking the levels of the coffee were not to the point of spilling before she mustered the ability to walk back to their table. All the while, Akechi watched her, palm against his cheek as he grinned at her misfortune. Makoto had made it back in one piece, eyes darting up to his to check if he was watching (he was), and immediately back down to her scalding hot drink and blueberry muffin.

 

“You didn’t get anything?” she asked worriedly.

 

“I did,” he assured her, eyes glancing over to the counter right as his name was called.

 

Makoto nodded in understanding, grimacing when she realized the coffee was pitch black. Perhaps it’d be less awkward if she went to fill it with cream while he was up? Or was that rude, she wondered. For a brief period, she wondered why it was so awkward to be around Akechi suddenly when their interactions were for pleasure over business. She opted to get up quickly, grabbing the cream from the bar to bring back to their table. He had returned just in time to slide the back of the receipt towards her. Makoto looked at it funnily until she realized the fast and sloppy handwriting was a phone number.

 

Her mouth was ajar when she stared up at him and he quickly took the receipt from her.

 

“That seriously just happened?” she asked appalled.

 

“Guess so. I’m sorry to say it isn’t the first time,” he grimaced, seeking her eyes.

 

“Have you ever followed up on one of these?” she asked as she measured out two exact tablespoons of cream.

 

“I’ve never been interested enough to,” he shrugged.

 

“But you have been interested,” she said, pointing the spoon at him, “just not enough.”

 

“No. I suppose it became so normal that I never really processed it anymore.”

 

Makoto nodded slowly, eyes barely squinting as she scanned the bar for the culprit.

 

“Jealous?” he asked her when she didn’t reply.

 

“Would it soothe your ego if I said yes?” she asked hypothetically.

 

“Kind of,” he said jokingly, “Me showing you was simply a gesture of honesty.”

 

“I have no reason to be jealous,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee.

 

He was slightly confused in what she meant but he let it go. If it had been any other woman, he’d likely be outside the coffee shop being yelled at out in public. She was strangely different and he became more and more aware of it each day.

 

“Don’t like sweet things?” he asked, motioning at her untouched muffin.

 

“I do, unfortunately. I don’t care for the calories, though,” she admitted.

 

“I don’t think that’s something you have to worry about,” he said quietly.

 

“I exercise all the time and I try to be healthy, but you never know with food these days,” she said, hitting the spoon on the plate once before bringing the cream back.

 

Akechi laughed inwardly, wondering how obvious his flirting might have to be before she picked up on the fact that he was thoroughly attracted to her. He’d amp up his efforts.

 

“I haven’t had coffee with cream in so long,” she said longingly when she returned, “It might be awhile before I will again.”

 

“What’s stopping you?” he asked, sipping his own cup.

 

“Nothing, I guess,” Makoto decided, motioning towards the muffin, “Do you want to split this?”

 

“It’s all yours.”

 

“I… don’t think I can eat all of it,” she admitted.

 

“Save it for later.”

 

“Oh…”

 

Makoto didn’t want him to think she was ungrateful. She peeled back the paper cup holding it in place slowly and only when she made an attempt to eat but she suddenly overcome with coyness.

 

“I think I’ll save it for later,” she said quickly.

 

“You haven’t eaten all day,” he pointed out.

 

“Are we going somewhere?” she asked, mind buzzing with possibilities of why he’d want her to eat.

 

“We can,” he said suggestively.

 

“... Did you make plans?” she asked fearfully.

 

“Did you want me to?”

 

Makoto bit her lip when she caught on to him answering her questions with questions. Was this all just a game? Were dates games?

 

“I feel embarrassed around you,” she said finally, face flushed as she looked down.

 

“Why’s that?” he asked innocently.

 

“Because… this is strange. It’s new territory for me and-“

 

“Would it be less awkward with someone else?”

 

“No! I mean… I think it _could_ be just you,” she said shyly, “But really it’s… you don’t really learn how to go on dates in school.”

 

“Perhaps it’s the crowd,” he shrugged, fingers spinning his half empty cup in his hand.

 

“I-I don’t think that’s it,” she huffed.

 

“So, it’s just me in your equation, then?” he asked smiling.

 

“I think so.”

 

Makoto had been pulling down her jacket without realizing it, fingers nearly digging into her thighs as she made nervous conversation with Akechi.

 

“Relax,” he said softly.

 

Makoto’s eyes looked up to his, face tormented by the circumstance as she attempted to figure out how to “relax.” Perhaps it was the close vicinity of their faces given the size of the table, but she nearly jumped and spilled the contents on it when his hand found hers under the table.

 

“You’re trembling,” he commented, “Do I make you that nervous?”

 

“Yes,” she hissed.

 

“What can I do to alleviate this? Should I go?” he asked half-jokingly.

 

“No,” she said weakly.

 

Akechi looked at her with half concern when she gave him nothing to work with.

 

“I suppose you’re not helping me much either. I rather like it when you’re embarrassed and red like that,” he admitted with a smirk.

 

Makoto let out an audible sound, a mix of a moan and sigh at his response.

 

“You’re making me dizzy,” she said in a mere whisper.

 

“Don’t pass out on me,” he teased.

 

“I-I’m not going to!”

 

“Perhaps it’s the coffee?” he suggested innocently.

 

“No, that’s definitely not it,” she frowned.

 

“Can you describe it? Where is this feeling?” he asked, squeezing her hand.

 

Makoto gave him a coy look before she motioned to her heart, the sight nearly melting him.

 

“And.”

 

She motioned to beneath her stomach after that. That was enough for Akechi to know she wanted him as much as he had pined for her. Akechi nodded to show he understood, heart fluttering. It wasn’t the first time she’d gotten “sick” like this.

 

“Butterflies?” he asked her.

 

“Is that what it is?” she asked innocently.

 

“Does it hurt?”

 

“No, it’s just… a bundle of nerves below my stomach, I think? I’ve never felt anything quite like it.”

 

“I see.”

 

Makoto pouted slightly when he released her hand, almost forgetting briefly that she’d been nervous around him at all.

 

He removed the plastic wrapping around the fork and poked at the untouched muffin in front of her. Relieved to see that he was making an attempt to eat it, Makoto felt the butterflies return when he pointed the fork at her to feed her.

 

Before she could even bother to reject him feeding her, Makoto noticed the glances of the few people in the cafe, likely thinking how cute the _couple_ were together. She quickly bit down on the bite and chewed before anyone could deem her as a terrible _girlfriend._ The act added fuel to the fire, but she was relieved to see that Akechi took a bite to follow. Makoto couldn’t help but think about the fact that they were sharing the same fork.

 

“I feel like that made it worse,” Makoto grieved, “I mean… the fact that we’re being watched.”

 

“It’s a public space,” he chuckled.

 

“Yeah, well… I don’t think your admirer is very happy with me. Wherever she is,” she said quietly.

 

“Do I look like I care about any of that when all I can see is you?” he asked her lowly.

 

Makoto blushed, swiping the fork from him and ignoring his response to eat her muffin. Akechi laughed at her embarrassment.

 

“What am I going to do with you, _cara mia?”_ he asked, the corner of his lip turning upwards as he watched her lovingly.

 

Makoto pondered what he meant for a moment before registering the strange pet name he’d given her just then. Her face flushed even more as she made an attempt to stand her ground without pulling him by the collar and kissing him.

 

“Do you want me to be direct with you?” he asked.

 

“Yes, I think it’d make things easier for the both of us,” she said, bracing herself for his confession of having either gotten over her or deciding that she’d be a horrible girlfriend 30 minutes into their first date.

 

“I’ve thought about you indelicately for a long time,” he said directly.

 

Makoto nearly coughed, which gave her a few seconds to recuperate and guess what on earth he might be insinuating.

 

“I take back what I said about you being direct,” she choked.

 

“I should’ve been more forward, hm? All that time we were alone in the convent together and yet I still held back, thinking you were so innocent. But you’re really not, are you?”

 

“Are you trying to kill me?” she asked hoarsely, “Is this hardly a conversation to be had in a _public space_?”

 

“Quite the opposite,” he agreed.

 

Makoto put down her fork to look at him.

 

“I said it before,” he smirked, “I had this feeling you weren’t as good as you made yourself out to be.”

 

Her demeanor changed when he said that, and she decided maybe she’d show him a piece of her that she had tucked away.

 

“Maybe I’m not,” she said slyly.

 

She watched him adjust in his seat, leaning forward with much interest.

 

“You’re not innocent are you?” he asked her quietly.

 

“Depends what you mean by that,” she said simply, “I don’t claim to know a lot of things, but that hardly makes me innocent.”

 

“I see,” he said breathily, watching her domineering eyes as she looked upon him in a shroud of mystery, “And what about on the other side of that definition?”

 

He meant her virginity, and part of her knew but feared to answer. Makoto wanted very badly to be indirect and vague.

 

“If you’re asking me what I think you are… yes, I am,” she said, as vague as vague got.

 

Akechi didn’t want to seem pleased, but he found it slightly difficult to contain his relief. Regardless, it wouldn’t have mattered because he often fantasized about teaching her. He nodded as if to understand, and Makoto shifted uncomfortably, wondering if he was disappointed.

 

“Did you think about me the way I did about you?” he asked her, catching her off guard, “Indelicately.”

 

She kept glancing over her shoulder and eyes darted around the room constantly to ensure that no one was listening, even with how loud the shop was. This was hardly a conversation to be having anywhere but in private. For a moment, she thought about the last time a conversation like this _somewhat_ came up, and she had ended up straddling one of his legs as he resisted sliding his hands up her shirt. She shivered at the memory.

 

“Maybe once or twice,” Makoto replied, smirking innocently when she overheard him stifle a groan softly.

 

“I thought about you all the time,” he admitted.

 

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

 

“Makoto-“

 

“You’re attracted to me?” she asked.

 

“Was that not obvious?”

 

“You can be very hard to read most of the time,” Makoto said, nodding as if to embolden her point, “Thank you for your honesty.”

 

They were silent for a moment. Akechi watched her dainty fingers ravel the paper cup neatly before his eyes followed to watch her suck at the remnants of the muffin from her thumb. He sucked in his lower lip, biting on it as he watched her feverishly.

 

“Was it the habit?” she asked innocently.

 

He nearly choked at her sudden newfound bluntness.

 

“Could’ve been part of it,” he said hoarsely.

 

“What was most of it?” she continued.

 

“ _You_ in the habit,” he replied quietly.

 

“I hardly think that’s all of it,” she said with a smile, “Tell me, my dear. Was it what I represented? Do you have a thing for nuns?”

 

He suddenly felt the tables shift in power when she used his usual term of endearment towards him. If it wasn’t obvious that he was turned on in a coffee shop, she discovered as such when she reached out to pat his knee from under the table. He retained his composure, mirroring her newfound ability in flirting in hopes of overwhelming her with only a _fraction_ of what she thought was the extent of his capability.

 

“If I did, I didn’t realize I had such thoughts about nuns at all until a very specific one came along,” Akechi said sweetly.

 

“I believe your confession wasn’t a full one after all,” she said in an airy voice, “You know it’s a sin to lie?”

 

His simple teasing of questions had brought out the higher-than-thou aura that Makoto had allowed to seep out once or twice. Akechi couldn’t deny his arousal in the matter, preferring this so much more to her earlier nervous and clumsy nature.

 

“Would you like to hear the rest of it in great detail?” he suggested lowly.

 

“I’m afraid there are others who can do that job so much better than I,” she said smoothly.

 

“It doesn’t have to be through confession. There are other ways I can _show_ you,” he said.

 

Makoto thought for a moment before she reverted to speak plainly.

 

“Is there a point to sleeping together if I’m not intending to… bear?”

 

“Bear my children...? No, I suppose not. Many people sleep together regardless of that fact.”

 

“Yes, I’m aware,” she said slowly.

 

“It was simply a comment, not an invitation, unless you want it to be. A full one anyway,” he said nonchalantly, “I wanted to know your stance on situations out of wedlock.”

 

“Why?”

 

“For my own purposes.”

 

“This sounds like one of those ‘dates from hell’ things I’d hear around school,” she held back a laugh.

 

“Ah, but you’re so much more of a participant in our conversation now since I’ve broached the topic,” he smirked.

 

“Perhaps,” she agreed.

 

She sipped the last of her coffee, noting that she did respond a good amount. Being incredulous somehow rid her of her nervousness. Was this why girls anticipated sex on the first date in order to break the ice? The way they had talked so openly about it to the point of normalization seemed weird to her. Maybe it was just the way she was thinking about it. But Makoto and Akechi hadn’t been together for a single day. He’d been pining for her for God knows how long, and they’d been together officially for a month.

 

“I’m not opposed to it,” Makoto said quietly.

 

Akechi stared at her, relishing in her bold response as a former nun and as the good girl type. She nearly laughed at his disbelief before standing up and running her hand along his arm and around his shoulder. Her fingers touched the spot where she knew he hid his wound.

 

“Shall we go?” she asked him.

 

———

 

To Makoto’s relief, he hadn’t planned a full blown date. He’d simply taken her out for coffee much like any _innocent_ gesture he’d attempted to show her up until then. At first, they walked around outside, enjoying the slow bloom of the half-budded flowers. It was still cold even with the approach of spring, and as if sensing her struggle with bravado, Akechi reached for her hand for the first time. Even with the occasional attempts to discover one another, breaching a closeness and intimacy such as holding hands was completely new to the both of them.

 

She flushed, making a quiet sound when she felt his hand for the first time, no gloves. He had stopped to look at her, unwilling to pass up the opportunity to look upon her face when they had more or less finalized the last part of cementing their unofficial relationship. There were no formal questions, no asking of permissions, it simply was. Akechi’s face softened when she pressed her other hand over her mouth to hide the nervous smile underneath. He looked down at her, smiling wholeheartedly, wondering how long she had been anticipating this.

 

“I love you,” he said with no embellishment.

 

Makoto floundered at the act of endearment, turning a deeper shade of red with each passing second. He had let it slip once at the church, but even then, it had been under the fear of never being able to admit it. It was unlike him for certain, and it was almost painful to finally hear it. Recollecting all the memories that had led them up to this point made her both emotional and unbearably happy.

 

 _Why?_ She wanted to badly to ask.

 

“I love you, too,” she returned the gesture.

 

“Why?” he asked her.

 

_Because you never gave up on me. Because you tried to save me. Because you did save me. Because you didn’t try to hide the fact that I was anything but horrible. Because in another lifetime, I’d always find you._

 

_Because it’s so easy to love you when you’ve taught me how to love myself first._

 

“Just because,” she replied after a long moment.

 

In some sort of self-fulfilling way, Akechi had led them to the church by memory. He really did visit it too often. It looked empty, and the both of them knew that it was. In her rebellion, she wished to trespass just for the fondness of the memories there, for those that were wronged, for those that knew nothing, and for those that were none the wiser. She leaned forward a little, mesmerized for a moment to walk forward, until she felt the pull of Akechi’s hand still in her own — there to pull her back, always.

 

“I saw Ren today,” he told her.

 

Makoto turned to look at him.

 

“About… the jury?” she asked.

 

“Yes, that,” he sighed for a moment, “Sae really is relentless, isn’t she?”

 

Makoto was quiet for a moment, hoping to ask how it went, but knew that it couldn’t have much better than her visit with him, if she could even call it that.

 

“How did he take it?” she asked bravely, hoping he wouldn’t take it the wrong way.

 

“He asked about us,” he replied in half-amusement, “He firmly believes you stole me from him, I’m sure.”

 

Makoto frowned at the accusation, and turned her eyes back to the tall white church that hovered over them— where it all began.

 

“You sympathize too much with those that don’t deserve it, Makoto,” he said, as if sensing her hesitance.

 

“I… I believed he was innocent until the very end, you can hardly blame me. Even so, I don’t think of him as a murderer. One simply does very strange and terrible things for love,” she said the last part quietly.

 

“And you think he killed for love? You think it was worth it for him?” he asked her curiously.

 

“He never seems distraught, does he?” she asked in return, “Unphased, unbothered. He knew what the consequences would be when he pleaded guilty-”

 

“There was no reason for him not to,” he said, “He was unlucky to be in the presence of a well-alive detective as his witness. And future police woman.”

 

Makoto glowed slightly at the last remark.

 

“Though, I must admit that I do agree with you,” he said slowly, “Murder is still murder, yet what makes it murder is intention, isn’t that right?”

 

“Sympathizing with the murderer, huh?” she teased lightly, “Could you do it? Murder in the name of love?”

 

Akechi grinned at her slightly, leaning down to look at her with unreadable, red-brown eyes. They danced against the light for a brief moment when he responded to her question.

 

“That’s the only kind of murder I’m capable of,” he roused, insinuating so much from a simple line.

 

Makoto shivered at the sudden shift of his tone and expression. She felt it in his words, in the way his hand landed on the back of her neck, and the other pulling her forward by the waist. When his lips greeted hers, she felt how deep his possessive love must have went. In their kiss in front of the church, Makoto felt her innocence fade away, her red eyes burning with resolve as she pressed herself close and melted against Akechi’s possession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've reached the 'technical' end of Postulancy, a year-long journey of debatable slow burn. I've made the last chapter more or less an optional read in the event that you've converted to Catholicism and decided that smut is no longer your thing. 
> 
> Really, it's mostly just that their relationship was established and only kind of fleshed out near the end, unlike 'Pining.' I wanted to keep the tone of suffering, but if smut is still your thing, please look forward to the next and final chapter soonish :-) 
> 
> For those that choose not to read the optional chapter, thanks for sticking along for the last year and for making it this far! I have another series in the works, albeit it'll be much shorter than my last two. Hopefully it'll give me some time to consider writing another huge series. Other than that, prompt commissions are still open. 
> 
> Thank you for reading 'Postulancy'!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you may be a sinner but your innocence is mine

Nothing planned ever happens. Much of Akechi’s relationship with Makoto was entirely serendipitous —the events that followed after Ren’s incarceration, and the settling of the dust from the case, all of it caught the both of them by surprise like the twirl in a tango when you can’t see for the few seconds you’re spinning, and then the moment you settle back into the present, you remember —should I be anywhere else?

 

Everything happened all so fast, and soon they were inseparable, much like their time in the convent. In some sort of self-fulfilling and destructive way however, both of them were plagued with doubt when it came to the other, and the small rifts that came and went were like unmended cracks in the pavement. Unlike Makoto, Akechi saw those cracks.

 

The guilt that Makoto felt in her part of the fake betrayal never left her, and in the times that she felt the leftover shame, she’d sulk, hard and alone. Asking herself if she could ever do anything right always seemed to be part of it, and she made it a routine to distance herself from Akechi when things like this happened. Even in her growth, she couldn’t deny the fact that relationships were not her forte and thus the desire to equalize it weighed her down. But in the end, Akechi’s demanding and worried voice of reason seemed to always come back, ridiculing her negative thoughts so that she’d snap out of it eventually. Although, it happened much too often for his liking and left him in the shadow of his own self doubt.

 

For Akechi, his own doubt sprouted from his inability to express his desires. In a push and pull, his feelings for Makoto often pulled taut enough to snap, and he feared that side of himself so much so that he would distance himself in that regard. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to her, touch her, feel her presence, and yet, the desires themselves manifested into some sort of warped form of possession —it wasn’t healthy, and he didn’t need to be told twice to know it for himself. He was selfish in every facet of the word, so why wouldn’t it apply to Makoto also? In the times that she pushed him away, he felt like a ball of rage that needed to match her own untapped and pent up feelings. Somehow, he couldn’t leave her alone when those times came, crushing his lips onto her hopeless ones as if there was some way he could become one with her body and stay right there. Only when he pulled back bruised and sensing the hurt on Makoto did he realize that he loved her _just a little too much._

 

And so they did what they both did best, it seemed. Their love for each other grew into an untamable entity of its own, like a child two new parents couldn’t seem to get to behave, and instead gave it whatever it wanted, and neither of them knew what to do with it when they were around one another and this fiery, passionate rage erupted.

 

Akechi’s destructiveness often took form in the heated and rough kisses that tempered through his own pain and only snapped him back to reality when he could see it in some physical form on Makoto’s body —bruised lips, red and blue marks along her body, scratches that seemingly scabbed over and stayed scanned. Makoto’s own rage tampered with her struggle for dominance, to control and to derive her own pleasure from it, and that took the form of something entirely strange. In her struggle, she latched on and didn’t let go, knowing not what to do whenever she saw the red in Akechi’s eyes like a colorblind bull. That took the form of a broken voice, moans that traveled from deep within the lower part of her body and penetrated right through the flesh of Akechi’s body, digging and twisting until it found comfort in his discomfort.

 

Needless to say, the two-headed beast lacked its third head — the ego that reasoned and balanced the both of them. As they struggled to move past the point of impasse, the lack of mediation resulted in heated and passionate struggles of power and control. From an objective perspective, it was obvious they needed an outlet. Akechi knew without a shadow of doubt what that meant for him specifically —lusting after the untamed, untouched parts of Makoto that he knew about from the very beginning. He was confident that it was a simple solution, one that he knew she didn’t even try to make sense of. And so for the first time ever, he sought to show her in ways that he wasn’t familiar with. He fought her unfamiliarity with his own, careening them to an island where only the two of them existed and none of the outside world would matter for the rest of eternity.

 

That was until the psychological ego manifested in an unpredictable way, serendipitous as always.

 

Makoto was sick. Very sick. And as if that wasn’t already the icing on the cake, it had interrupted Akechi’s plans to take her somewhere quiet for the weekend. Even with her nonstop schedule at the police academy, she had somehow found herself as Akechi’s assistant under an unpaid internship. He loved every moment of it — his lover with him at all times, and it was strangely reminiscent of when they had worked together on the case at the convent, the banter of her questioning his line of logic, the small jabs that he could make up for now with hurried kisses in the hallway. Obviously, he found ways to slip her money, which she’d often decline. When she did, he’d be sure to spend it on the new laptop she was eyeing for school, or on dinner when she forgot to eat. All in all, it seemed that his innate desire to care for Makoto had manifested in a way he never knew was possible. Perhaps this also contributed to Makoto’s sickness —forcing her to study and work harder than ever to meet his equals. She hadn’t told him that she planned to take the exit exam six months earlier than the program suggested, and that eventually led her to a halt when she was bedridden for three days and no end in sight.

 

He hadn’t been prepared for her to get sick, and knowing that her pride and rage would simply erupt if he entertained even the _idea_ of a dumb get well card only made Akechi want to see her more. Obviously, nothing stopped him from doing what he wanted, and it never did.

 

_A: Let me see you._

 

_M: I’m sick? How many times do I have to tell you?_

 

_A: Does it look like I care? I’m coming over._

 

_M: Sae’s home._

 

_A: I doubt it, and even if she was I wouldn’t care._

 

_M: Would it kill you to be compliant?_

 

_A: Yes._

 

_M: Don’t come over, I’m taking a nap. Head’s killing me._

 

He frowned at her reply and turned off his phone. It was too bad he was already on the train, a week’s worth of groceries and soup in hand. Akechi knew she was capable of taking care of herself, but he wanted to be with her even at the expense of getting sick himself. He’d gotten sick way too often as a child when he was tossed from foster home to another. At fifteen, he had an unimaginably regular streak of getting sick once for every season for at least two weeks and that’s when he started biking. Eventually the muscle that made its way onto his body was thanks to the weight classes he was required to do in physical training, and at twenty one, he couldn’t remember the last time he got sick. Although, he could likely guarantee it wasn’t contagious, Akechi wasn’t particularly careful and it’d simply be the bridge he’d cross when he got there. Even if there was nothing he could do, he’d be there to assess her illness.

 

He arrived at her apartment right when she sent him a message, _are you coming over?_ The question was so open ended that he had to smile to himself. Was it a question of want and underlying hopefulness, or a question of frantic opposition? Akechi never knew with Makoto, and when he went to knock on her door, he gave her a chance to open it. There was shifting inside —she’d need to work on her stealth —and whatever sound it was settled on the other side of the door.

 

“Makoto?” he called.

 

He swore she was holding her breath now.

 

“Honey?” he tried with a smirk.

 

There was a thud and he nearly busted out laughing, but kept still. With one hand, he reached into the back of his pants and pulled out the key to her apartment. More loud thuds were heard when Makoto became aware that the door was opening. It wasn’t bolted, thankfully, and he was too quick for her to simply jump out the window if she wanted to. He was greeted with her clamorous form, face red either from her fever or embarrassment, and a heavy blanket wrapped firmly around her body.

 

“Wh-why do you have a key?!” she screeched.

 

“You gave it to me… the other week?” he reminded her.

 

“Hell… why would I do that?” she asked exasperated, eyeing the groceries in his hand, “Really?”

 

“Don’t act so surprised. I’m a pretty decent human being at times,” he teased.

 

“No, you’re the worst. I told you not to come and-“

 

He waited for her to finish, hand to her forehead, mirroring Sae whenever she was stressed, but she never did. It’d been the second time he’d ever come over, and it was as dreadfully awkward as the first time when all three of them had dinner together. Makoto could do nothing but eye him apologetically once the realization sank in that he had come all the way over, skipping out on staying late at work and all, to take care of her. Grimacing slightly, she reached for the bags in his hand as a gesture of gratitude. He hesitated for a moment before allowing her to take the lightest one. There were no words after that.

 

They were silent when Makoto piled the groceries he had purchased onto her counter and tied the bags into knots. She sniffled once and he turned to look at her.

 

“Fever, runny nose…”

 

“It’s just a common cold,” she replied hoarsely.

 

“Is your throat sore?”

 

“It’s raw,” she replied weakly.

 

Rainy season had approached and Makoto no doubt stayed up late every night either studying or catching up on homework when she wasn’t working at the detective’s office. The long nights coupled with the rain definitely lowered her immune system even with how healthy of a lifestyle she claimed to lead. Tugging the blanket tighter around her shoulders, Makoto turned away in embarrassment once she realized that it was the first time Akechi was seeing her so under the weather.

 

It took him no time to find the kettle and immediately started to boil water for tea. The cutting board came next and he began pulling out the vegetables to wash and cut them. Makoto naturally supervised for a moment before feeling dizzy and couldn’t bear standing any longer. He was relieved to hear her go back to her room and sink back into bed as he prepared her dinner. She found it suddenly difficult to fall back asleep, realizing it was the first time that she’d been in a situation where she’d relinquished control and it was out of her own proximity. There was nothing she could do to combat the fact that she couldn’t control her body. That in a way made her feel even more vulnerable, and soon her wounded pride from being unable to keep up with her studies to take the exit exam early began to sink in.

 

Half an hour had passed and Makoto was phasing in and out of her thoughts, teetering over consciousness and being asleep entirely. She turned over right as Akechi entered her room to place the soup and tea by her bedside.

 

“Thank you,” she murmured with what little voice she had left.

 

“When did you sleep last night?” he asked her directly.

 

“... 5AM,” she replied meekly.

 

He sighed and sank to the floor by her bed. Watching her hide her face behind her blanket, Akechi took the opportunity to push her bangs out of place and feel her forehead.

 

“You need to stop doing that,” he sighed, “Not to be patronizing but is it really worth your health just to take this exam early?”

 

She obviously wanted to say yes, but she looked away instead. It was worth it. But she didn’t tell him it was all due to her feelings of being behind. She was tough on herself, and dating _Akechi Goro_ needed no explanation as to why she’d naturally gravitated to rival against him. Still, they were meant to be equals but old habits die hard. Makoto stayed silent.

 

“Drink your tea,” he told her.

 

She made a small noise of discomfort before sitting up to do so. Somehow he’d left it sitting out so that it was the perfect temperature. After a few sips, she felt her throat start to feel much better.

 

“You didn’t have to do this,” she told him with sudden conviction.

 

“That doesn’t change the fact that I did,” he told her.

 

She watched him pick up the soup next, gloves on his hands and she smirked. Her eyes never left his even when he blew on the spoon, and then point the spoon to feed her. She drank it willingly, chewing on the vegetables slowly. This exchange went on for a few more spoonfuls before she heard him sigh.

 

“What are you doing to me?” he breathed.

 

“What?” she asked half-incredulously.

 

“Looking at me like that,” he told her with the faintest growl.

 

“It’s my neutral expression,” she explained innocently, “Fine, I’ll feed myself.”

 

Akechi didn’t seem to fight her on the matter. The bowl was warm to the touch and she could feed herself the rest.

 

“Seriously, did I offend you?” she asked in between gulps.

 

“Quite the opposite,” he mumbled, turning away from her.

 

“Then why did it bother you so much?” she pressed.

 

“It’s got nothing to do with being bothered,” he avoided.

 

He thought about his reply and decided it wasn’t entirely the truth. He was _bothered,_ but in the way she’d least expect. Being around her had this painful longing feeling, and he knew exactly what he needed to get rid of it. Even so, he didn’t feel it was something he could burden Makoto with. Not now at least.

 

In turmoil, Akechi often hid and watched from a distance, brewing awful and terrible feelings from within. It was how he got through much of his life thus far. But with Makoto, if often seemed as though there was never anything to forgive. Whatever she did, in all honesty, left him with an unsettling peace and acceptance. An unconditional feeling of love seemingly gave birth to a whole new ordeal of emotions he didn’t ever seem to grasp or understand. For the first time in his life, he wondered if he had been capable of such feelings all along —he was simply waiting for the right person. All in all, he hated everyone for the most part. If there was something he could conjure up when it came to caring about others, it was indifference. He often wondered how and why life took its course and led him to Makoto in such a convoluted and strange way, but life’s mysteries were best left unsolved, he decided.

 

In the many months that they had been together, he hadn’t quite bothered to count them. With each passing day, it seemed that he belonged here and now with her, without a doubt. And yet, the final rift between them had caused Akechi the most unbearable and excruciating pain of all. Objectively, could he have said that he lost her? What if she had never returned to him, continued on with her life where she picked it up last, and forgotten about him. Perhaps he didn’t even leave a dent in her memory for her to remember him. And this rabbit hole seemed to take him deep and dark into the tunnel of his untapped desires for Makoto. He sat with them now, he sat with them always waiting and aching.

 

He reached up to touch her leg, finding himself mesmerized by the innocent intention of simply feeling her. Sitting on the floor, he remembered to straighten up before looking up at her with, most likely, a look of desperation paired with want. Still, he kept himself at bay, behaved but anticipatory. Makoto watched him through the steam of her soup, smiling weakly even through her feverish sickness. They continued on like this until she finished, setting the bowl off to the side and wrapping herself up in her blanket again. He shifted slightly, inching closer to the side of her bed while she sat on it.

 

“You’re not going to tell me what’s wrong, are you?” she asked finally.

 

There’s nothing wrong, he would’ve said.

 

“I might tell you if you asked,” he said instead.

 

He saw Makoto freeze for a moment and then breathe again. She gave him a serious expression, and seemingly pulled away to assess whether or not she did something wrong. It took her a long moment to sift through the possibilities, but she couldn’t arrive at a proper conclusion.

 

“What’s wrong?” she asked hesitantly.

 

I want you, he thought to say. I want you so bad, more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. Everything I’ve worked for, all the hate and anguish I’ve felt for the twists and turns in my life led me to you, and yet, I can’t even touch you. You’re so far away, on a shelf I feel I might never get to, and it’s peeling and chipping away at all that I am.

 

It’s what he would’ve liked to say, but in layman’s terms, Akechi desired her to the brink of mortal combustion. It seemed very close anyway.

 

“I want you,” he said, filterless.

 

It had been the first time he’d been so direct in that manner that it caught him off guard. He thought it so often that the words just manifested themselves.

 

Makoto thought to remind him of her fever, but she knew the response to that. In truth, she wanted him the same but she didn’t know how to. Between the mess of her hair, her swollen and sunken face, there was hardly anything for him to _want,_ she was sure. But she tried it anyway.

 

“I want you, too,” she replied in half of a voice.

 

She didn’t need to flush in embarrassment, her fever did that well enough. Akechi rolled her words back and forth in his mind, and even at the apex of their escapades (if one could call them that), she hadn’t said anything of any semblance to that. Even with her legs around him, core at the base of his stomach while he pressed kisses to her half revealed chest, she hadn’t said it. Even when he was behind her and dipped his hand down her back, and then back around her hips to pull her close against his hardness, there was nothing of the sort. And at the end of all of this, she’d simply reach behind him, brush her hand along the front of his body, command him as her own, he’d behave and gave in to her wishes.

 

It wasn’t like that now, and she made it clear she desired him equally. In truth, she would never know the true bounds of his churning and twisted want. He wondered if he’d ever be able to show her the seemingly non-existent extent of it. For now, his thoughts left his body. It was through her vulnerability and slow release of control like a cat’s sunken claws that slowly led her off the edge with him.

 

Akechi’s seduction was slow unlike all the times where he simply didn’t have the capability of knowing what slow was. He crawled into bed with her, and she seemed to accept the ‘innocent’ gesture for now. He wound himself in the comfort of Makoto’s warm body, and he didn’t have to pull her close, for she nudged herself into the curve of his body like this is where she belonged. It didn’t take long before she realized his member was throbbing against the curve of her rear —it happened so often, after all. Somehow, this time it seemed different. Even so, he held her close and made no attempts to seize any opportunity.

 

“I feel much better,” her voice came quiet and shy.

 

Akechi didn’t say anything, closing his eyes in hopes of relinquishing his need to consume her. He exhaled a sigh, and she wondered if he was tired now.

 

“You’re not better by any means,” he reminded her.

 

“I know,” she flushed, “I think I will be soon, though.”

 

He made an agreeing sound before pressing his forehead to her shoulder for his own comfort. Maybe he was catching her illness, he thought quaintly at the dumb idea. Akechi kept his breathing contained even when he removed his gloves in order to touch the smooth dip of her waist. Makoto allowed him since it wasn’t an unusual and uncommon thing. His breathing became unnoticeably laborious when his hand moved up the front of her stomach and settled right under her breast. She wasn’t wearing a bra, but the gesture was still mostly innocent in her eyes. They’d gone this far before, but she would never grant him permission to look, only touch.

 

He did just that, only this time his hand slid up the curve of her breast and his thumb brushed her nipple. When Makoto hadn’t refused him, he felt the threads of his restraint stringing and fraying. Only now, he realized he had been holding his breath and he nearly choked when he heard her sigh happily at his ministrations. He willed his entire lower body to freeze, knowing they’d pass the point of no return if she sighed approvingly at his body grinding slow and unhinged against hers. Akechi simply would have lost all control at that point. But, it was her this time that pressed the curve of her rear against him hard and wanton.

 

He let out a pent up moan, soft and broken as he twisted and rolled her nipple between his fingers. His other hand slid between her side and the bed to touch the front of her thigh. With him wound like this around her body, he sensed the precariousness of the situation and how raw and frustrated he would be if she’d pull away and turn her touches into innocent ones. But there was nothing innocent about the way she was allowing him access to her breast, nothing innocent in the way his hand was traveling closer and closer to the curve of her mound, and nothing distinguished them from lovers that had done this a million times.

 

Still, Akechi pulled away uncertain and afraid of her fear of regret. His body agonized over detaching itself from her, but it slowly did so anyways, knowing that sooner or later she’d draw the line of too much —he’d decide that for her now. Makoto let out a quiet, confused sigh.

 

“Touch me,” she seemingly begged him, throat raw from being sick and tingling from strange want.

 

He didn’t need to be told twice, especially when she punctuated it by moving her hand behind her to pull him back into her. There was nothing he could do but sigh once he was throbbing against her again —he couldn’t even moan, for that would be release. He returned to cupping her breast, motions more languid and exploratory now that she’s given him permission. Still, he ached to look her in the eyes while he did all of this, coming to realize that nothing turned him on quite like the red on her cheeks and the flutter of her heavy-lidded eyes as she averted back and forth away from his mahogany eyes.

 

“You are driving me insane,” he told her lowly, “You have always drove me insane.”

 

Makoto sighed at his words, tilting her head off to the side when she felt his hair brush close to the nape of her neck. He planted kisses all along the length of it, and then he heard her let out a hitched whine. The sound traveled down his throat, into his heart, back into his body and all through the winded pathways of his bones until it sat comfortably at his cock. That’s when the kisses turned rough like they had just once before. His heart pounded in this realization and he kept going, nipping and sucking all along her fevered skin as if he had to paint it with his love or there’d be no other proof. It was only natural that he made his way away from her side and hovered above her now. Makoto followed the motions of his body, allowing him to kiss all over her jaw and neck and raising her hips so that he could hold her hostage to the throb and ache of his splintering body.

 

Akechi simply couldn’t find any ounce in him to stop again. This was much further than they had ever gone, as embarrassing as he’d like to admit. But when he was able to tug at her low-waisted sweats with no resistance, he stopped. Makoto stared up at him in slight confusion, eyes softening and doe-like as she made a sound for more.

 

“I can’t. You’re not well,” he told her as if her sickness impaired her of a conscious mind.

 

“You didn’t care before,” she told him.

 

“I want you, all of you. But I need to know that you’re making this decision not out of obligation,” he confessed.

 

Makoto grew quiet, body trembling with each passing moment without his touch. How could she take control of this situation? It seemed as if he wanted her to. Their usual ways of protecting themselves had all but flipped, and Akechi was the one running away this time. Perhaps it was always in him, the desire for someone to be within arm's length. When it came to it, Makoto presented that distance so naturally that it made him want and want only more and more. Except now, he reverted back, afraid and anxious. It was up to her to seize control.

 

So she did, removing her sweats for him, and baring her warm legs and mound covered by triangular black fabric drove him back to the edge. He watched from above, still fully clothed. Makoto didn’t get up, tugging away at the buttons of his white shirt from the bottom until he got the idea to continue on, mesmerized by the sight before him. In all honesty, he couldn’t distinguish the fantasies he had about her where he conjured up what she looked like naked from reality anymore. They were overwritten almost instantly when Makoto scooted her pants off and then brought his hand back to her midriff where her shirt had rolled up. Akechi swallowed, drinking up the sight of her.

 

“I want to know all of it,” she said in feverish coyness, “Everything you’ve felt for me. Since the beginning.”

 

Akechi wanted to tell her that there was no concept of time in the world that would allow him to show him everything he’s fantasized, all the ways he’s touched her and made love to her in his head. She was certain now, and yet he could guarantee that she’d never touched herself before. He would be the first one in all aspects.

 

He dipped his hand over the swell of her mound, feeling the warmth of her against his palm as he delegated the rest of his consciousness to steady his breathing. He watched her carefully when he pulled at her panties, making sure his eyes never left hers even in the reveal. For a moment there, she flinched as if meaning to hide herself, but she didn’t. Akechi began to lap at the first time he was seeing her bare, heart stopping when he realized she had shaved for him. His hands squeezed whatever flesh he was holding at the time, and he let out a labored choke —so much for steadying himself.

 

“You’re perfect,” he told her, and he brought his fingers to her clit.

 

He could hear her gasp a little, the sensation an unfamiliar pleasure. He was gentle, and yet all the frays of his self restraint were skinning him alive. How much longer, he wondered, until I can’t fathom going so deathly slow? His finger trailed down her lips, committing to memory what she really felt like in relation to his dreams about her. He found it difficult to even remember now that the real thing was before him. No matter the friction, or how much his fingers tangled between her lips to feel how wet she was, Makoto didn’t make a sound.

 

“Is it a bad feeling?” he asked her urgently, “A strange one?”

 

Makoto couldn’t answer, shaking her head embarrassed that she couldn’t quite put into words what she was feeling. It was the first time she was discovering herself, and with Akechi there doing it for himself as well, she felt uneasy and afraid that she wasn’t what he wanted.

 

Akechi leaned down to claim her mouth, hoping that something familiar would make her relax. He was surprised to feel her lips pulling him in, wrapping her small tongue around his in an erotic tug as she kissed him with extreme need. That was enough to tell him that she wanted it, but there was a block of fear that he had yet to chip away. She had never kissed him in such a way. He inserted one finger in, and much to both of their surprise, her body accepted it and wound itself around his finger. Already, the friction was too much, and he was slow when he pressed the finger up against the sponge of her cunt. Finally, Makoto made it known that it was enjoyable, her voice shaking as she let out the quietest high-pitched moan. Akechi returned to kissing her, going insane with every time she would moan quietly into his mouth when he’d press a certain part of her. Makoto took this opportunity to free him of the rest of his shirt. Without warning, he inserted another finger inside of her, and even more surprised, he found her body receptive, only this time she arched into him.

 

Akechi couldn’t help but break the kiss, groaning at the reminder that his cock was so hard that it throbbed painfully from any semblance of physical touch that wasn’t him buried deep inside of her. He suddenly felt like he had to ask.

 

“You’re a virgin, right?” he asked for what seemed to be the millionth time.

 

He had read about how certain the pain would be for females, and yet here Makoto was writhing in her pleasure more than anything else. She didn’t seem to mind to tell him again that she was. He didn’t want to scare her, telling her that it shouldn’t have been this easy. In Makoto’s mind, it was only natural because she wanted him so, so badly. Akechi tested once more, and entered a third finger in. She hissed a little but it took no time for her to adjust, and soon all three penetrating her and pushing up into her G spot made her grab hold of him tighter, legs wide and crying out for more.

 

He had done this before, more times than he’d like to admit, but it was always non-committal. With Makoto, he held back even though the other side of him gnawed relentlessly at his careful and gentle feat. Akechi was afraid, so afraid that she’d simply stop this all of a sudden, and he’d be thrown into the deep end once again to pick up the shattered pieces of himself. Even though he had convinced himself over and over again that he wasn’t upset with her leaving him, it still left a mark along with the other tallies within his heart. He told himself that she was the only one that came back, and soon, he was back on his train of doubts even being so close to claiming her.

 

As if sensing this, Makoto reached to touch his face.

 

“I’m ready,” she told him shyly, “I’ve waited a long time for you.”

 

He listened to her words, knowing very much so that he had been the one waiting since the very beginning. In between gasps and moans, he couldn’t quite get her to say anything else. When he began to pull away, she spoke again.

 

“I don’t want anything else but… to belong to you. Only you,” she continued, voice trembling.

 

“You belong to me,” he told her hoarsely, allowing her to shiver ever so slightly at the implications that even if she didn’t want to, she would belong to him regardless.

 

Oh, but she wanted to very badly.

 

Her body sulked a bit, and her vocal response matched it when he pulled out of her. Only for a moment, he had to unlink himself from her so that he could unzip his pants. Makoto watched with bated breath, eyeing him as his cock sprung free finally. It was the first time she was seeing it, albeit all the teasing touches she’d done through the fabric of his pants in the past, and the once or twice where she reached down to feel its girth and length in the throws of their modified lovemaking. It was different to see it, and it was obvious that she was stunned by the size of it and face bright red as she thought about it inside of her.

 

Akechi returned back to her, pressing his erection against the plane of her stomach and mound. He felt the bare skin there against his own for the first time, and the idea that they were so close to the point of no return made him dizzy. Still, he took the time to paint his shaft with the copious amounts of precum from her slit.

 

“I’ve waited even longer for this,” he told her, “Too long.”

 

Makoto nodded as if to understand, fear still in her eyes, but he noticed that it was starting to seep away. His eyes wandered to what was left of clothing on her body, and for the first time he pulled up her shirt to see her bare. She tossed it over her head quickly so that she could cross her arms over herself to hide. Akechi was too mesmerized by her full nudity in front of him to speak or pull her from herself. Makoto could tell that he wanted to see, and as if in a trance, she slowly let her arms down and allowed him. His eyes started from her eyes, down to her parted lips, the length of her slim neck, and then to the hollows of her collarbone. He traced the curves there to the fullness of her shapely small breasts, heaving up and down in rhythm to her ragged, nervous breathing. He had never seen anything quite like her.

 

Getting down on his elbows, he kissed her once more as a precursor for what was to come. He hoped she’d know by the end of this that his love for her knew no bounds. He positioned himself at her entrance, prodding it once again with his fingers. Thankfully she was still wet, even more so than before. As if anticipating his entry, she inhaled. He entered her at this point, head first and then some. Makoto threw her head back, baring her neck for him as she let out a voiceless cry. Her body accepted him at first, and then it became so unbearably tight for the both of them.

 

Akechi froze in place, throbbing over and over again as he waited for her to cue him to continue. He moaned softly and forced himself to pull out when Makoto wrapped her legs around his lower back and held him still.

 

“Keep going,” she told him in a whisper.

 

He knew it was painful for her because he could feel her squeeze down tightly around him. He inched in bit by bit, pleasure slowly overcoming pain for the both of them, and soon, he was sheathed all the way in. Akechi asked if she was all right, in which she responded with a brisk nod. He swore the build up and the months and months of teasing and torment that led up to this could’ve made him come on command.

 

“More,” she commanded now.

 

In a heated surprise, Akechi kissed her neck to soothe her but she simply latched onto the flesh on his shoulders and demanded more. He quickly pulled out and then slammed right back into her, the motion enough to turn her voiceless scream into a broken and feral moan. The sound went straight to his cock, and that powered him to continue making love to her. Soon, the rhythm became steady and Makoto’s grip on him loosened when his motions became more favorable.

 

Her breaths became more rhythmic as well, each one punctuating a piece of his heart and left his throat and jaw tender with desire. Makoto began to feel her body convulsing, urging her that she would soon explode.

 

I wish we’d done this sooner, she wanted to say. Is this what I’ve been missing? You’re going to make an addict out of me if this is what the rest of our lives will be like. Makoto let these thoughts run rampant as Akechi made love to her slow, so agonizingly slow. She reached up to him, tangling her hands in his hair for a moment before pressing her lips back onto his. He couldn’t help but groan against her mouth, realizing that every time he’d sheath himself deep inside of her, she would respond with a soft gasp, allowing him that split moment of absolute control of her mouth and body.

 

That coupled with the friction of their bodies becoming one, Akechi could feel himself not only tearing, but disintegrating from being inside of her. Makoto might have recognized her own pent up desires as the same had he voiced what he felt in that moment. He showed her by raining hurried and desperate kisses along her chest, claiming her breast for the first time, and wrapping his tongue around the hardened nub. All of that at once forced Makoto into an unknown frenzy. Even as she tried her best to keep her voice to a minimum, much to his dismay, she couldn’t keep it together near the end as her orgasm crept up. She moaned once, voice betraying her as she threw her head back.

 

A string of gasps and then one soft moan indicated that she had come.

 

“Goroooo,” she cried, “ _Fuck.”_

 

Akechi realized that the act had been so freeing that it might have been the first time he heard her curse in that way. Her cunt throbbed violently when she came, and as it simmered down, he could feel himself quickly following suit. Leaning forward, he looked into her eyes as he did so, supporting himself against her forehead as he reached his own climax. Watching her underneath him blush and bask in her afterglow made him want to join her. He came inside of her, joining their release together in a mix.

 

“Makoto,” he whispered against her lips.

 

“Hnn?” she asked quietly.

 

The consequences of the act soon made its way into his mind, but he’d leave it for tomorrow. Her body temperature was evening out, however, and they’d seemingly made her fever disappear.

 

“Does this mean I’m yours now?” she asked in a small voice.

 

“Yes. Mine, all mine,” he whispered into her ear.

 

She had little energy to ask anymore of him, and soon she was falling asleep steadily to the quiet rain outside of her room, and the soft kisses on her jaw.

 

“I love you,” he told her, right as she reached the brink of sleep.

 

She murmured something equivalent before entering a deep, neglected slumber.

 

Makoto dreamed about the convent, not because she believed it meant something, but it was the last thing she thought about before she fell asleep. Losing her virginity sealed the end of her history of the convent. She no longer belonged to God, but to herself. And then to Akechi Goro.

 

She sat on the pew nearest the altar in her dream, remembering how cold it felt every Sunday service. She quickly reached for her hair, often doing so when she was still a nun to make sure that it was the decision she had made. This time, there was no habit. Turning around, she realized the church was empty but some sort of faint, quiet music played as warmth snuck up on her body. There were footsteps from the front of the church, and her eyes averted to where the sound came from. There was a bright glow before the silhouette of a person became clear.

 

Makoto got up from the front to face the figure. As it stepped closer, she knew it was none other than the detective the first day they had met. He was dressed as he was that day, face sullen and handsome just as she remembered. It was obvious that there was something different about him this time when he faced her near the altar like he had that day.

 

“Afraid, Makoto?” he asked her, similar to the way he had done so before.

 

She smiled at him for a moment, clasping her hands together out of habit.

 

“Not at all, Goro,” she replied.

 

His sullen expression dropped and he returned her smile before taking her hand in his. Akechi led her towards the glow of the door, and out of the church. The bright light greeted her, leaving her curious what she would see when it disappeared, and the doors to the church closed with a heavy, old creak, never to be opened again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve finally reached the end. Thank you for sticking by until the very end and for all your comments throughout the story. Also, special thank you to those that decided to read this chapter, as optional as I made it out to be. 
> 
> I’m still accepting ko-fi requests over at ko-fi.com/persephine. 
> 
> Until next time, bye for now!


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